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■ BERNICIA 





AUTHOR OF JAN VEDDER’s WIFE,” “ FRIEND OLIVIA,” “ THE 
BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON,” ETC., ETC. 


OCT 14 1895 




■ 7 - vv.'y-vrA.'' 


si^i-cLa 


NEW YORK 


DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 

1895 


TZb 


Copyright, 1895, 

BY 

DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY. 


All rights reserved. 


THE MHRSHON COMPANY PRESS, 
RAHWAY, N. J. 


I INSCRIBE THIS ROMANCE 
TO MY FRIEND, 

DR. EDWARD J. BERMINGHAM, 

IN GRATEFUL ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF 
HIS SKILL AND KINDNESS. 


September, 1895. 


Amelia E. Barr. 


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CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

PAGE 

I. 

Bernicia 

. I 

II. 

The House of Bouverie, 

27 

III. 

There are so Many Ways of Loving, 

. 53 

IV. 

A Drawing-room Sermon, 

77 

V. 

Harry’s Return, 

• 97 

VI. 

Lover and Preacher, .... 

125 

VII. 

William Bouverie’s Anger, 

. 144 

VIII. 

Harry’s Pardon, 

. 158 

IX. 

The Quarrelsome Disease, 

. 176 

X. 

Bernicia’s Interference, 

197 

XI. 

The Greatest Pleasure of Life is Love, 

. 229 

XII. 

The Word Listened For, 

267 


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BERNICIA. 


CHAPTER I. 

BERNICIA. 

On the morning of the 15th of March, A. d. 1748, 
Lord John Pomfret, a nobleman of the court of 
George II., and a member of the government of 
which Pelham was prime minister, was impatiently- 
waiting the advent of his wife. As he did so, he fre- 
quently cast glances into the large oval looking-glass, 
which reflected his flashing black eyes, his swarthy 
skin, and the full dark curls of his flowing wig. He 
was a handsome man, with an air of great authority, 
and he was privately assuring himself that he was not 
unworthy of his lady’s approval, when he heard the 
tapping of her heeled shoes upon the polished hall ; 
and immediately Lady Pomfret, dressed as for the 
Mall, in all the splendour of brocade, lace ruffles, 
patches, and powder, entered the room. 

She was a small, fair woman, and not strictly beauti- 
ful ; but all her movements were made with “ an air ” 
that captured the imagination, and invested her with 
more than the power of beauty. Lord Pomfret 
advanced eagerly to meet her, and she looked at him 
with that pleased composure which is prepared to ac- 


2 


BERNICIA. 


cept admiration and is conscious of its desert. Then 
with the manner of a queen she said : 

“ My lips and cheeks have been pinked and 
powdered, as you may see, sir. I hope, then, my hand 
will content you. And pray do I look handsome this 
morning ? ” 

You are entirely adorable, Fanny." 

“ Then sit with me a little, for I have things of 
importance to say to you." 

“ 'Tis impossible to delay. I but waited to salute 
you. I have a world of affairs to attend to, and His 
Grace of Newcastle expects my presence." 

“ Let ‘ His Grace ’ wait. Courtiers are well accus- 
tomed to whistle and watch the door." 

‘‘You know what our expectations are in that 
quarter, Fanny ? " 

“ I have none remaining. I know that we were 
promised seas and mountains ; and that we have 
received nothing. You may grow devout, John, and 
fix your hopes on the next life ; for you will obtain 
nothing from His Grace of Newcastle in this one." 

“ I asked nothing. Offers were made me. There 
are not two men in England to whom I would say, 
‘ Your servant, sir.’ " 

“ And but one woman ? " 

“ But one woman ; your adorable self, dear Fanny." 

“ I am very sensible of your affection. What think 
you ? My sister Bernicia is in town. She sent me 
word of her arrival yesterday morning, but her messen- 
ger found me gone to Richmond ; and so returned 
this morning." 

“ How unfortunate ! " 

“ Thus you see me ready for my coach. I am going 


BERNICIA. 


3 


as far as Bloomsbury myself. I have heard wonders 
of the house my Uncle Bouverie has just finished. It 
is said to be carved, and satined, and gilded, and 
looking-glassed like a palace. I am told there is not 
a cup, or a rug, or a rag in it, under one hundred 
years old.” 

“ Some such things I have heard also. Where will 
these traders grow to ? ” 

“ I shall bring Bernicia back here with me.” 

“ That would be imprudent. How can you propose 
anything so risky ? Her very name will rouse suspi- 
cion. People will ask what a Cresswell is doing in our 
home, pledged as we are to the House of Hanover.” 

“Speak for your own pledges, John. If you are 
not sure under ‘ which king ’ you live, I am,” and 
she folded back with a smiling pride her sacque of 
blue brocade, and showed over her heart the white 
rose of Stuart. 

He began to bluster at the emblem. “ I will not 
suffer it in my house ! ” he cried. 

“ I will then remove myself from your house,” 
answered Lady Pomfret. “ I am mightily tired of you 
beginning every day with an lo Poean to that snuffy 
German usurper. And you know, John Pomfret, that 
your heart is with the Stuarts, and that you are a 
miserable impostor ! ” 

Gracious Heavens ! Have you lost your senses, 
Fanny ? ” 

Then she looked at him steadily, and he bit his lip 
and laughed softly, and said “ Egad, Fanny ! What a 
woman you are ! I suppose Bernicia could put 
‘ Cresswell ’ behind some other name ? ” 

“ That is not supposable.” 


4 


BERNICIA. 


“ But it is a question of safety to ourselves. All 
England knows that your father, Sir William Cress- 
well, and your brother James ” 

“Are among the illustrious headless. I thank God 
for their faithful lives, and their honourable deaths. 
All England knows also that my brother Harry is with 
the king — over the water. What then ? Is the little 
Hanover man afraid of a girl-child ? Are you expect- 
ing Bernicia to plot treason ? Do you think I will 
help her ? I tell you willingly, I would if I could, 
but when the last opportunity is taken away, what can 
we do ? “ 

“ Look you, Fanny ! you treat me very unkindly. 
You prejudice my affairs beyond redemption.” 

“ I am a miracle of kindness compared with many 
notable women. Seven nights gone by, did not the 
Duchess of Queensberry at her masquerade, dress her 
duke in tartans? Could anything have been more 
insulting to the Usurper at this time ? ” 

“ The Duchess of Queensberry is as mad as a March 
hare.” 

“ The weather is so very Marchy, that we are all 
mad, I think. But having agreed to my plans about 
Bernicia, I need not ask your presence longer.” 

“ Your plans ! Have I yet heard them, Fanny ?” 

“ Indeed, they are unfinished. We can consider 
them to-night. The duke is doubtless anxious for 
your private counsel. If I were you, I would give 
Newcastle one bow and his brother Henry two. If 
you can be of the least use to Henry Pelham, he will 
put you in the Ministry. As for the duke, he is not 
to be trusted, unless he stakes. But then, 2i^ you say, 
the whole Ministry is as mad as March hares.” 


BERNICIA. 


5 


She was settling her dress over her hoop, and turn- 
ing her feet right and left to see if the silver clocks on 
her silk stockings were straight, and Pomfret did not 
care to waste more time in a dispute whose certain 
conclusion for him was defeat. He went away with 
an air of depression, and Lady Pomfret called for 
her glass coach and her footmen, and crossing Hol- 
born, turned to the fine new precinct of Bloomsbury 
Square. 

It was not a long ride, yet she had time for many 
reflections before reaching her Uncle Bouverie’s 
house ; for in that day the streets of London did not 
permit rapid movement of any kind. They were 
always crowded with coaches, chairs, and carts ; with 
porters bearing large burdens, and bullies swaggering 
great swords ; with funerals, christenings, weddings, 
street fights, and processions — all curiously jumbled 
together, and enveloped in a bewildering babel of 
cries from hawkers, ballad singers, and beggars. 

From this passage of the streets Lady Pomfret's 
thoughts entirely separated themselves. They were 
in the wild, gray Northumberland ; or wandering 
about the lonely, lordless castle of the Creswells ; or 
flitting over the desolate field of Culloden and the 
awful spaces of Carlisle walls. The London crowd 
pressed close to the doors of her coach, but she was 
not conscious of a figure in it. She was watching her 
father, with his gigantic hillsmen at his side, pass like 
phantoms over Kildeer Moor and Carter Fells to join 
Prince Charles in his latest brilliant mistake. They 
were all gone, never to return. Then she thought of 
the sweet, sad mother who had so soon followed them 
to some land of which mortals know nothing at all ; 


6 


BERNICIA. 


of the brother in France ; of the little sister Bernicia, 
who had been sheltered by a Creswell more prudent 
than the head of the family ; of the old home and 
estate, which would doubtless be forfeited to the new 
dynasty. 

“ Root and branch ! house and lands ! ” she mut- 
tered passionately. “All will go to some Hanover 
rat. Strange women will sit in my mother’s room, 
and some creature who never knew Northumberland 
will become Lord of Cresswell Castle. And all for 
those Stuarts ! those fatally unlucky Stuarts ! Would 
to God the prince had had manhood enough to die 
with the good men who died for him ! I could 
forgive him if, when all was lost, he had sought out 
that devil Cumberland and found diis savage heart 
with a Stuart claymore. Oh, Charlie ! Charlie ! why 
did you not die with Perth and Keppoch ? ” Tears 
of wrath and sorrow dimmed her eyes, and when she 
had wiped them away she was aware that the lonely 
moors and mountains beyond Hadrian’s Wall were 
far off, and that she was in Bloomsbury Square, 
London, and approaching her uncle’s new mansion. 

Outside it was not yet finished. Men were busy 
with the carved stone work and the polishing of the 
massive doorway. But a step within it placed her in 
an atmosphere of the past. The wide spaces of the 
hall were lined with pictures of the Bouverie family — 
men who had been famous in their generations — 
fighters with Cromwell, adventurous traders and 
mariners, great merchants, and, withal, ever to be 
found in the front when Dissent was struggling for 
religious liberty or political recognition. 

She glanced right and left at the resolute, square- 


BERNICIA. 


7 


jawed men in steel corselets or black velvet, and even 
paused a moment before the likeness of Captain 
Christopher Bouverie, standing silent and motionless 
by his mainmast while his wounded ship sunk to her 
grave off the ice-bound coast of Archangel. The 
house was very quiet, and the man who opened to her 
was shod in felt and moved with irritating delibera- 
tion. But she was unconsciously calmed by the 
atmosphere in which she found herself, so that when 
she entered the lofty room into which she was ushered 
she did so without hurry and with no evidence of the 
emotion she really felt. 

There were two women in it, one of them near 
seventy years of age. She was tall and straight, with, 
a dull fire in her black eyes, and a cap of Honiton 
lace over her snow-white hair. She sat by the fire 
knitting, and her brass needles moved with an in- 
cessant rapidity even when she was not looking at 
them. Lady Fanny courtesied low to her, and then 
put out her arms to a girl who had risen from an 
embroidery frame as she entered. This girl was 
Bernicia Cresswell, and Lady Fanny held her to her 
heart and gave full sway to the impetuous affection 
which at the sight of Bernicia swept every lesser con- 
sideration before it. 

“ My little sister ! ” she cried. “ My little sister ! 
You have become a woman ! Oh, a charming woman ! 
Oh, my darling, you are a very angel ! " 

“Granddaughter,’^ said Mme. Bouverie, “you must 
try and speak without uttering false words. In this 
world, no woman is an angel.” 

“ A thousand pardons, grandmother. Indeed, 
divines who pretend to know about women have 


8 


BERNICIA. 


doubts about our being angels even in the next 
world, i will except my sweet mother, and doubt it 
myself. We are a bad lot. Confess to me, Bernicia, 
have you ceased to be angry, and to tell fibs, and to 
love the world and the flesh and the devil ? ” 

Then Bernicia kissed her sister, and as she did so, 
whispered: “Take me away, Fanny. This house is 
neither for my age nor my liking.” 

Lady Pomfret had come with this intention, but 
she found difficulty in carrying it out. Mine. 
Bouverie, in spite of her age, was still controlled by 
passionate prejudices. It was twenty-seven years 
since her daughter Frances married, against her posi- 
tive command, the North Country Jacobite lord, and 
she was still unforgiven. Her misfortunes and death 
madame considered a barely adequate retribution for 
her transgression of all the religious and social tradi- 
tions of her own family. And she justified this lasting 
anger by the consideration that the evil inaugurated 
by the marriage of Frances Bouverie to Sir William 
Cresswell did not end with the authors of it. They 
were dead, and their first-born had been foredoomed 
to the scaffold. Yet the three remaining children 
manifested no leaning toward the faith of the home 
and the domestic life which the wilful Frances had 
abandoned. 

On the contrary, her eldest daughter had married 
Lord John Pomfret, a High Churchman, a Tory, 
a natural hater of the Dissenters, and the frequenter 
of a court at once stupidly sensual and scornfully 
atheistic. And as the wife of such a man, Fanny 
Pomfret had become a fashionable woman and a 
partner in all the vices and follies then adherent to 


BERNICIA. 


9 


the character. This further lapse had not been made 
without madame’s interference. When hhr grand- 
daughter had first come to London she had fre- 
quently sent for her. She had warned her of the 
snares of the world and the devil, and tried to teach 
her how to attain unto that peace of mind which 
comes from close walking with God. But even while 
giving such instruction, madame had always doubted 
the efficacy of it. Fanny Pomfret was a child of 
reprobate parents, and their works only could be 
expected from her. 

It must also be admitted that Lady Pomfret had 
given some verity to this uncharitable fear, for she 
rapidly ceased answering with her presence her grand- 
mother’s invitations. She could not satisfy madame, 
and with the other members of the Bouverie family 
she did not come in contact. They were only three 
in number : her uncle, William Bouverie, and his two 
wards, George and Claire Abney. William Bouverie 
was usually in the city during the hours in which her 
visits were made, and the Abneys were both at famous 
Dissenting academies in the city of Gloucester. 

At this time there were in the Cresswell family much 
speculation and curiosity concerning these children. 
It was said that William Bouverie had adopted them, 
and his own wife and child being dead, there was a 
natural fear that they were destined to inherit the 
Bouverie’s wealth. So when Fanny Cresswell married 
and removed to London, she was urged by her 
mother to make peace with her relations, and to dis- 
cover if possible the position of the two wards of the 
house. 

It was more easy to fulfil the last condition than the 


lO 


BERNICIA. 


first. Lady Pomfret could not win her grandmother’s 
affection, but there was no attempt made to keep from 
her knowledge the circumstances relating to George 
and Claire Abney. 

‘‘ Their father was your uncle’s friend,” said 
madame. “They loved each other, and they were 
partners in business. So when Silas Abney and his 
wife died, it was natural that the children and their 
estates should be left in my son’s care. He will deal 
justly with both.” 

“ Did their parents die at the same time ? ” 

“Within a few hours of each other. They had a 
fever which was prevailing at the time.” 

“How old are the children, grandmother? Are 
they a care to you ? ” 

“ They are no care to me. George Abney* is fifteen 
and his sister Claire is ten years old. They are at 
good schools.” 

In some way Fanny Pomfret received the impres- 
sion that her grandmother had not learned to love 
the orphans. It was also evident that the conversa- 
tion about them had no special interest for her, yet 
Fanny continued it. 

“ Are they poor, grandmother ? ” she asked. 

“They are both rich,” answered madame. “ Claire 
is especially rich.” 

“ Is it not strange that the girl should be richer than 
the boy ? ” 

“ George Abney is the sole heir of his father. To 
her daughter Claire, Mrs. Abney left her own fortune, 
and she was one of the wealthy and famous Oweh 
family.” 

“ And pray why * famous ’ ? ” 


BERNICIA. 


II 


“You ought to know, Fanny, that the Owens have 
been pillars of Nonconformity and Dissent in all 
their generations. Claire’s property is growing on all 
sides. When she is of age, she will be a great 
heiress.” 

“ Pray can I call ‘ cousin ’ with George and Claire 
Abney ? ” 

“ The Bouverie and Abney families have inter- 
married. We are at least cousins and connections by 
marriage.” 

“ And the Abneys are rich ? ” 

“ Very rich. Two of them have been Lord Mayors 
of London.” 

“ Ah, then, I think I may call Claire ‘ dear cousin.’” 

“ You may pleasure yourself in the matter, Fanny.” 

“ At afiy rate, she cannot call you ‘ grandmother ’ ? ” 

“ She cannot call me ‘ grandmother.’ I am not apt 
to give myself away.” 

“ Nor can she.call Uncle William * uncle ’ ? ” 

“ He has given both children that right since their 
birth.” 

“ Then I must treat them * cousinly,’ I suppose ? ” 

But in spite of this decision Lady Pomfret never 
became familiar in the Bouverie family. Her visits 
grew further apart, and then ceased altogether. Years 
passed, the gulf grew wider, and the death and ruin 
of Lady Pomfret’s family hardened, rather than soft- 
ened, her heart toward her relatives. She thought 
they had treated her mother cruelly, and she was glad 
that madame herself should suffer the pang of un- 
forgiven love. And thus in the course of ten years 
the Bouverie and Pomfret families became complete 
strangers. 


12 


BERNICIA. 


And if Lady Pomfret was little known to her city 
relatives, Bernicia Cresswell was not known at all. 
Her very name was a source of disapproval. 

“ Bernicia ! ” cried her grandmother scornfully. 
‘‘Bernicia has a pagan sound. No one in our 
family was ever christened by a pagan name.” 

“ It is the ancient name of Northumberland,” said 
the child’s uncle. “Frances could not call a girl 
‘ Northumberland,’ but Bernicia is not bad.” 

“ But why ‘ Northumberland ’ in any fashion ? Are 
there not Marys and Elizabeths and Catherines in the 
Bouverie family? names, that have the English air, 
and sound sweet to every ear. I shall never be able 
to say this child’s name without a feeling.” 

So Bernicia had been allowed to remain in Nor- 
thumberland after her father’s and mother’s death. 
It was understood that Allan Cresswell — having taken 
no part in the rebellion — had been permitted to hold 
in charge the Cresswell estate until the further plea- 
sure of the king should be known, and that Lady 
Cresswell on her deathbed had also appointed him a 
kind of guardian of her little daughter. To the Bou- 
verie family it appeared a proper arrangement, and 
even Lady Pomfret was not inclined to dispute it. 
Her last memory of Bernicia was that of a hoydenish, 
unhandsome girl of fourteen, educated by her mother 
in such feminine arts as were then commonly taught 
girls, and by her father in all sylvan sports — and lov- 
ing the latter much more than the former. 

And in three years if Love does not grow cold, it 
does grow forgetful. Bernicia had been almost for- 
gotten by her kindred in London, when there occurred 
one of those divine interferences in a destiny which 


BERNICIA. 


13 


we ignorantly call “ accidents.” A certain Redes- 
dale man, named Gilbert Hadley, stopped one day at 
Cresswell Castle and asked for the loan of a horse, 
his own having fallen lame under him. Allan Cress- 
well invited him to remain and rest, and the men be- 
came confidential over a bottle of wine. Then Had- 
ley told Cresswell that he was returning from London, 
where he had been to secure the succession to the 
estate of his eldest brother, who had been slain at 
Prestonpans fighting with Prince Charles. 

“I had no opinion of the Stuart cause from the 
first,” he said, ‘‘and I begged brother Jack to give 
it the go-by, but ‘ out ’ he would, and no stopping 
him. Then close to my own ingle I sat, and no one 
could lay word or deed against me, and now I have 
my reward.” 

“ Do you mean that you have legal possession of 
Hadley Keep and land ? ” asked Cresswell. 

“ That is what it comes to. My lawyer represented 
to the government that it would be a pity to dis- 
possess ^oiijei^f the oldest families in England, when 
there was a loyal representative to carry it on ; and 
the matter was so settled. There have been expenses, 
but what of that ? I am now Master of Hadley.” 

This conversation made a great impression upon 
Allan Cresswell. If Gilbert Hadley had secured his 
brother’s right, why might not Allan Cresswell take 
his cousin’s place? He had been without offence 
toward the government, and the direct male heirs to 
Cresswell were all dead except young Harry Cress- 
well, who was even then an exile, in known sympathy 
with the Stuarts. He determined to apply at once 
for the succession. 


14 


BERNICIA. 


But before carrying out this intention he felt that 
he must rid himself of Bernicia. She was too observ- 
ant, and if she suspected his plans she would hardly 
hesitate at any means to defeat them. If he left her 
alone at Cresswell, she would think and think, and 
finally divine what business had taken him to London. 
All things considered, it was best Bernicia also should 
go to London. She would have a hundred new 
interests there to absorb her attention, and her 
presence would take away all reasonable grounds for 
accusing him of double dealing. 

However, he did not wish her to go to her sister. 
Lady Pomfret. The two women would get to talking, 
then to doubting, then to watching him, and if so. 
Lord Pomfret would be their ally : and he had 
influence enough to defeat all his projects. He told 
Bernicia, therefore, that he was going to France to see 
her brother Harry. He said this step was necessary 
to preserve Cresswell, and that he hoped he would be 
able, if he reasoned with the young man, to persuade 
Kim to solicit a pardon from King George. 

Bernicia scouted the idea, though perhaps in her 
heart she did hope for this arrangement. When peo- 
ple are ready to give up a point or a prejudice, they 
often bluster a little about their unwavering loyalty to 
it. So though she mocked at the supposition of Harry 
humbling himself to the Hanover usurper, she said 
she was willing to go to London and remain with her 
friends, while Cresswell went to interview his rebel 
cousin. 

“But I will stay with my sister Fanny,” she said, 
“for I know my grandmother and my Uncle Bouverie 
will give me but a cold welcome.” 


BERNICIA. 


15 


“Your grandmother has the first right to dispose 
of your movements,” answered Allan Cresswell, “and 
also, your uncle’s respectable house is a much safer 
place for a young girl than the court precincts into 
which Lady Pomfret will take you. For in London 
you will have to keep your tongue from evil speaking 
about King George, whether you like it or like it not, 
miss, and your wise grandmother will be a proper 
person to teach you to do so.” 

Then Bernicia lifted her black brows scornfully, 
and sang to its saucy melody, 

“ Geordie sits in Charlie’s chair, 

Bonnie laddie, Hieland laddie, 

Had I my will he’d no sit there, 

Bonnie laddie, Hieland laddie ! 

Keep up your heart, for Charlie fight, 

Bonnie laddie, Hieland laddie. 

Come what will, you’ve done what’s right. 

Bonnie laddie, Hieland laddie ! ” 

“Stop such silly ranting, Bernicia. You are not 
fit for the world at all.” 

“ Not for the Hanoverian world. I could not 
creep through a rat-hole of dishonour into it.” 

“You talk like a fool. It is time you were under 
restraint. I shall be thankful to resign you to Mme. 
Bouverie.” 

“ Perhaps grandmother will decline me. I hope 
she may. I have no desire to hear uncle’s household 
singing with their psalms, every morning and night, 
‘God Save Great George, our King.’ I do not know 
what might happen if I were tempted to such a degree.” 

In such a wilful mood she had commenced her 
journey to London. She had no company but her 


i6 


BERNICIA. 


cousin, Allan Cresswell, and her woman, Tarset. But 
then Tarset was a multitude ; for she had been, in some 
way or other, part of the young lady’s whole life. 
Allan Cresswell had endeavoured to separate them, but 
without avail, and he was perhaps as thankful to rid 
himself of the shrewd Northumberland peasant as of 
the provoking Jacobite young lady. The woman’s 
out-looking gray eyes, in spite of their apparent indif- 
ference, he knew were constantly watching him. 

After a tedious journey London was at length 
reached, and the little party went to the King’s Head 
Tavern in Fenchurch Street to refresh themselves, 
and to rest over the Sabbath. The next day Bernicia 
was taken to Bloomsbury Square, and she certainly 
received no very enthusiastic welcome. Yet when 
the first unpleasant sense of surprise was over, her 
relatives were inclined to meet her tenderly. William 
Bouverie thought, as he kissed her, that his niece was 
very fair to look upon, and not much younger than his 
ward Claire, and that therefore they might become 
friends and companions. And madame’s intents were 
also at first kindly and hopeful. Her daughter 
Frances had been the apple of her heart, and her 
disobedience and desertion the uncomforted grief of 
her life. Perhaps this beauteous child of the dead 
and unforgiven Frances had been sent as a balm for 
her heart wound ! 

But alas ! in a few hours Bernicia herself shattered 
all such expectations. At her first catechism she con- 
vinced madame that she was as much devoted to 
Episcopacy as to Jacobitism ; and with the passion 
of youth she had flashed into a championship of both, 
at the first breath of disapproval. And madame also 


BERNICIA. 


17 


noticed that Claire Abney regarded this rebellious 
girl’s disobedience with wonder and admiration. 
These conditions revealing themselves during the first 
day of Bernicia’s visit, could not be considered of 
small importance. On the morning of the second 
day madame sent Claire with a note to the family 
minister, and thus she was not present when Lady 
Pomfret called, nor yet was the council she had been 
sent to seek available for the emergency. However, 
its request was only a form of madame’s conscience. 
Under any circumstances she would have taken her 
desire, and at this hour her desire was to rid herself 
of a charge which she foresaw would be insubordi- 
nate, and which also was not unlikely to incite Claire 
to a personal assertion she had not yet dreamed of. 

So, after some disputing and directing. Lady Pom- 
fret was permitted to take away her sister for a season. 
Madame reserved the right of resuming her guardian- 
ship, and insisted upon a visit each week from Ber- 
nicia. She afterward regretted this stipulation, but 
there are moments in which personal feeling triumphs 
over wisdom even in the strongest characters, and 
madame, usually so careful of the future, forgot its 
interests while the question of her paramount right to 
direct her granddaughter’s destiny was in dispute with 
Lady Pomfret. 

But at length Bernicia was in her sister’s coach and 
they were driving through London streets holding each 
other’s hands. They could not talk above the babble, 
but the long repressed sisterly love burned in each heart 
with a warmth that hardly needed words, and yet which 
longed for their comfortable translation of feeling. 
The day was chilly and blowy, and so very Marchy 


i8 


BERNICIA. 


that thf y were glad to get out of the busy, disconsolate 
streets into the pleasant chamber of Lady Pomfret. 
There was a bright fire burning, and before it stood 
a Dutch table, set with a small China and lacquer tea 
service. On their entrance a black boy with a silver 
collar round his neck leaped from a scarlet blanket, 
where he had been dozing with a pet monkey in his 
arms. 

“ Presto, Jackanapes ! ” cried Lady Pomfret. 
“ Presto, sirrah ! Where is the hot water and the 
Hyson ?” and as the negro ran to and fro answering 
his mistress’s wishes, Bernicia looked at him with 
curiosity and some dislike. 

“ That is all. Go now to the cook. Say that it is 
two by the clock, and we dine at five. Tie up the 
monkey and look to the tables and the counters for 
the play to-night. And see that your scarlet spencer 
and scarlet stockings are whole. You may wear your 
silver chain and your belt with the silver bells. 
Quick ! Go ! ” 

“ I suppose that is a negro,” said Bernicia, with an 
affected shudder. “ I have seen pictures of such 
creatures.” 

Yes, a Barbary negro. Is he not delightfully 
ugly ? Lord John bought him for a Christmas present 
for me. He is a willing little devil, so I keep him in 
my room, for he has but a sad time of it with the 
kitchen people. Oh, Bernicia, how good it is to see 
you ! And how much has come to pass since I saw 
you last ! ” 

Since then our dear father and mother and poor 
Jamie are dead, and Harry is gone far away. No 
word comes from him. He might as well be dead 


BERNICIA. 


19 


also, perhaps better ; for, Fanny, our people do declare 
that father’s ghost walks constantly in Cresswell court- 
yard.” 

“ Do you believe that, Bernicia ? ” 

“Canobie has often seen him, and Tarset also. 
You know how gracious father was to all men, and 
they say that even now, when anyone bows to the 
noble wraith, it lifts its bonnet in return. I have 
often watched all night, but he comes not to me.” 

“ My poor little sister, how lonely you must have 
been ! ” 

Often I was very sad and lonely. I am glad to 
be with you, Fanny.” 

“ And I fear the journey was hard at this time of 
the year.” 

“ Indeed the roads were bad beyond all badness. 
And from Carlisle to Derby gibbets and skeletons 
were that devil Cumberland’s milestones. Woe’s me ! 
for the brave men who died for one brave man ! And 
ten times woe for the hundreds of brave men pin- 
ing ill France and in strange countries for the land 
they will never see again. I tell you truly, sister, there 
are hours in which I hate the Stuarts ! Yet when 
other people abuse them, then I have the contradic- 
tious disease, and am a mad Jacobite on the instant.” 

“ The Stuarts are dead and buried, Bernicia. 
Prince Charles fell fighting at Culloden — or he ought 
to have done so. And the Hanover men are such 
cocks of the game, that they would not suffer an oak 
leaf or a white rose to grow in all England if they 
could find them. Let us talk of the present and the 
future, the past is beyond our recall. What is your 
thought of cousin Allen Cresswell ?” 


20 


I5ERNICIA. 


He is for our injury. He will put himself in 
poor Harry’s shoes. He is in London for that pur- 
pose. Tarset says so.” 

Was he kind to you ? ” 

He did not dare to be unkind to me. Tarset 
never left my side, and there are yet many of our 
people in and around the castle.” 

“ Where is he stopping ? ” 

“At the King’s Head in Fenchurch Street. He 
had an expectation of being asked to remain at the 
new house in Bloomsbury, but uncle was not inclined 
for his company.” 

“ You came to issue with our grandmother very 
soon ? ” 

“ I was made known to her on Monday morning, 
and on Tuesday she began to ask me questions. I 
had not one answer that pleased her.” 

“ What do you think of Uncle William ?” 

“ He is grave and kind ; but faith ! those who 
cross his will need not expect any favour from him.” 

“ Did you see his ward, the rich Claire Abney ? ” 

“ I spent Monday with her. S/ie, if you like, is an 
angel. So good and so beautiful a creature is surely 
an accident in this dark world.” 

“And what of her brother, George Abney?” 

“George Abney fell in love with me. He is a 
very proper young man, dressed handsomely and with 
fine manners.” 

“ Bernicia ! how can you tell yourself such unlikely 
things ? George Abney fall in love with you ! Non- 
sense ! He has been taught to hate a Jacobite with 
a very hatred.” 

“Yet he fell in love with me.” 


BERNICIA. 


21 


“ Pray how did you pass the time ? ” 

“ When grandmother was not listening, I talked 
with Claire about Northumberland. In the evening 
George and Claire sang duets by Mr. Henry Purcel, 
and I assure you they sang and played well. George 
played on the chamber organ and the flute, and Claire 
played on the harpsichord. And thank goodness ! I 
was not quite ignorant, — for I have made good use of 
the old spinet at Cresswell, — so when George asked 
me to sing a song, I was not ashamed to do so.” 

“What did you sing? Have you seen the new 
pieces by Lully and Corelli ? ” 

“ That! for the new pieces by Mr. Lully and 
Corelli ; ” and she filliped her finger and thumb 
saucily. “ I sang them the song of the Brownie that 
sleeps on Cresswell hearth — the sad song of the little 
brown man, because the time comes not for his 
deliverance : 

“ ‘ Wae’s me ! wae’s me ! 

The acorn is not yet 
Grown uponjthe tree. 

That’s to grow the wood, 

That’s to make the cradle. 

That’s to rock the bairn. 

That’s to grow the man, 

That’s to make me free.’ 

And George’s soul was in his eyes as he listened to 
me. Then I sang the ‘Mounting of the Cresswells,’ 
and at the last verse George could not help joining in 
the summons : 

“ ‘ A Cresswell ! A Cresswell ! Yet ! Yet ! Yet ! ’ 

After that grandmother stopped the music, but George 


22 


BERNICIA. 


was spellbound ; and I know that he is mad in love 
with me.” 

“How many lovers have you left in Northumber- 
land ? ” 

“ The land is now barren of men worth a wedding 
ring. All the good men are in their graves or in exile. 
I used to sing about the castle in the daytime, just 
what the Brownie sang in the night-time. 

“ ‘ Wae’s me, wae’s me ! 

The acorn is not yet 
Grown upon the tree, 

That’s to make the cradle, 

That’s to rock the bairn, 

That’s to grow the man. 

That’s to marry me.’ ” 

“ You shall have lovers to pick and choose from, 
Bernicia ; lovers plentiful as blackberries in season, 
so do not be in a hurry, but choose carefully.” 

“ Still, as you know, Fanny, the devil goes through 
the blackberry vines on Michaelmas Day, and then it 
is over with them. How ^on is a girl’s Michaelmas ?. 
When she is twenty years old ? Or may she stand till 
she is five-and-twenty ? ” 

“ All this is the prettiest rant, Bernicia, but now I 
must call my woman and she shall dress you in the 
latest mode ; for Lord John seldom comes alone to 
dinner, and though in that black dress you look like 
the silver moon begirt with clouds, I am resolved to 
give your beauty a fairer setting.” 

Then Jackanapes was hurried here and there, and the 
woman to dress Bernicia was called, and in five minutes 
the chairs were littered with petticoats, and sacques, and 
stomachers ; with silk hose and red-heeled shoes, and 


BERNICIA. 


23 


buckles and ribbons and laces in great variety. And 
Bernicia sat before the mirror and watched the trans- 
formation of her beauty. She had not before under- 
stood how much silvered brocade and pale satin and 
fine lace enhance the charms of youth ; nor felt the 
personal elation which comes with the last touches of 
a becoming toilet. She looked at herself a moment 
and blushed at her own beauty. 

“ You are fleshly perfect, Bernicia,” said Lady 
Pomfret, with an air of admiration. “You have the 
glory of faultless health. You are like sunshine danc- 
ing on a spring day. You are so brilliantly animated 
at all points, I could fancy that you lived only on 
live things. Go to the parlours and admire yourself 
a little until your courtiers arrive. I shall have to 
wear diamonds and rubies if I am to stand at your 
side.” 

The parlours were long, low rooms, lighted with wax 
candles, and on the marble hearths bright fires of oak 
and ash logs were burning. There was a cabinet full 
of shells and corals in one corner, and in another 
recess receptacles for agates, minerals, and medals. 
Exquisite tables by Baptist, inlaid with flowers and 
fruits and birds of stone, held treasures of lacquer- 
ware from Japan, and of chinaware from Pekin. 
There were some good pictures upon the walls, and 
also an open harpsichord with a violin lying upon it. 

Bernicia touched the tinkling notes, but she did not 
sit down to do so. She was unaccustomed to a large 
hoop and so much splendour, and her long brocade 
sacque was easier to manage upon her feet. So she 
wandered slowly round the room looking at the 
painted faces upon the walls. In the soft light of the 


24 


BERNICIA. 


wax candles these faces of dead beauties and great 
men had a singular attraction. 

“ They look melancholy,” she thought ; “as if they 
were sad at no longer being alive. I wonder if they 
knew one another.” 

Suddenly there was a sound of voices and a gay 
laugh ; then a footman flung wide the door and two 
gentlemen entered. One was Lord Pomfret. Ber- 
nicia remembered him perfectly. The other was a 
young man unknown to her. These things were seen 
at a glance. Her presence also was noted, for there 
was an instant’s silence, and in that instant Bernicia 
did as her heart dictated, and went frankly forward 
with her hand extended, saying : 

“ I am Bernicia Cresswell. And you are Lord 
Pomfret ? I remember you well.” 

“ Most welcome, sister ! If I did not remember 
you, it would be extremely easy to learn your face, 
and quite impossible to forget it. My friend Lord 
Rashleigh, I am sure, wishes to know you. And pray, 
miss, where is your sister, Lady Pomfret ? ” 

“ Fanny prepares herself for your admiration. 
.She will be here anon.” 

The promise was hardly made when Lady Pomfret 
entered, and her presence put everyone delightfully at 
their ease. In a breeze of gay persiflage they sat 
down to dinner, Lady Pomfret crying : 

“ I give you leave now, my lord, to rail at the cook 
and the victuals, at the butler, and the wine, and the 
serving as much as it pleases you. Honours are now 
easy, for Bernicia and I together are sufficient for all 
malcontents.” 

“ If you are not, then I also am on your side,” said 


BERNICIA. 25 

Lord Rashleigh, looking at Bernicia with shining 
eyes. 

Lady Pomfret acknowledged his allegiance by ask- 
ing : “ Pray why were you not at Holland House last 
night ? Mr. Fox gave a fine ball in the brave old place. 
All the beauties and all the uglies were there.” 

“ Will you believe that I was at Lady Huntington's ? 
To be sure, you may laugh, but I can tell you that 
Methodism is becoming more fashionable than any- 
thing but brag or faro. This George Whitefield is 
indeed a wonder. You know Lord Bellhouse, and 
that he has never an idea that is not spotted with 
clubs, spades, hearts, and diamonds. Well, Mr. 
Whitefield has preached the cards out of his hands. 
It will be the saving of his estate. My Lady Hunt- 
ington has even hopes of his soul.” 

“ I have heard much of this Mr. Whitefield, and 
that he is a man of low birth,” said Lord Pomfret. 

Do people of any consideration go to hear him ? ” 

“Indeed, Lady Huntington’s splendid house in 
Park Street was crowded with notables. Lord 
Chesterfield and Lord Bolingbroke were present, and 
Mr. Lyttleton and many others of equal rank and 
wickedness. But the Methodists, as Mr. Walpole 
says, love your big sinners ; and if so, they may 
have a plentiful harvest. My Lady Townshend was 
much offended at the sermon, which, she declares, 
mixes us of the pinnacle with the dust of the vulgar 
herd.” 

“ Lady Townshend has a temper to quarrel with 
everyone,” said Lady Pomfret. “She lives in a 
vinegar bottle, and as for being offended, we all know 
that she plays as deeply at Methodism as at brag.” 


26 


BERNICIA. 


‘‘ I think we neglect Miss Cresswell, who can know 
nothing of Mr. Whitefield and Methodism,” said 
Lord Rashleigh. “ Shall we take her to Richmond 
to-morrow, and to Drury Lane afterward ? There 
is a new comedy which succeeds, and Garrick and 
Barry and Mrs. Woffington and Mrs. Cibber are in it.” 

Bernicia acknowledged the invitation with a beam- 
ing smile, and the conversation drifted hither and 
thither, from the play to politics and court scandal. 
And the evening went with Lord Rashleigh as time 
had never gone before, though cards were not thought 
of, and there was no dancing, and no music but the 
fresh sweet voice of Bernicia singing of Bonnie 
Bobbie Shafto,” or of the little brown man that lived 
on the Cresswell hearthstone. But even Lord Pomfret 
was charmed with an evening so unusual and so 
domestic. 

“ I never missed my game,” he said to Lady Fanny ; 
“and I am sure the pretty Bernicia will set the 
tongues of the town wagging. I think Lord Rash- 
leigh was struck with love for her. What do you 
think, Fanny ? ” 

“ I think he lost his senses entirely. But then he 
who does not lose his senses when in love, has no 
senses to lose.” 

“ It would be a good marriage for Bernicia. Will 
she marry him, think you ? ” 

“ Perhaps — if he can find the lucky moment in 
which to ask her. That is the great favour in love 
affairs.” 


CHAPTER II. 


THE HOUSE OF BOUVERIE. 

Things thick and threefold crowded into the con- 
sciousness of William Bouverie one fine morning in 
May. There was a ship from Muscovy to unload, and 
one bound for China to dispatch. He had also been 
advised that some paintings from Holland were at the 
Customs, and he had promised to be present at the 
Old Jewry Meetinghouse to hear Frederic Christian 
Schwartz lecture. Now, Schwartz was on his way to the 
East Indies, carrying there the first tidings of the Gos- 
pel ; a man of renown, full of the Holy Ghost, and will- 
ing to lay down his life for the heathen. And Bouverie 
was greatly interested in this new form of Christian 
labour. He thought of the rulers of the church and 
of the famous laymen who would march together up 
Ludgate Hill to the Chapter House of St. Paul’s, and 
be felt, whatever came or went, he must also be there, 
to listen to the reports of foreign proceedings, and to 
vote upon the important questions. 

It was this consideration that made him remember 
Bernicia ; for it was Wednesday, and Wednesday was 
the day on which her weekly visit was made. For 
some time he had tacitly sanctioned the absence of 
George from the office when Bernicia was at the 
house, and he felt sure George would dislike any 
interference with this pleasant custom. He knew that 


27 


28 


BERNICIA. 


if the day was fine the young people were likely to 
row on the river, or ride out as far as Richmond Hill, 
or otherwise, that they would play and sing together, 
or talk confidentially a little outside of the grand- 
mother’s hearing, or that the girls would work at their 
embroidery and George read aloud to them. 

And he was aware that George now lived for this 
weekly visit ; for though the young man was exceed- 
ingly reticent, love must be manifest, and George 
could not help discovering that he was in love with 
Bernicia Cresswell. This alliance Bouverie did not 
approve, but as yet he had offered no actual opposi- 
tion. He hoped that familiarity might breed indiffer- 
ence, for his experience had in no way taught him the 
larger truth — that familiarity as often breeds liking as 
disliking. 

However, he was not a man to hurry in any matter. 
He took his breakfast with deliberation, and called 
his household together after it for the daily worship. 
Claire knelt at his side and her hand lay under his 
hand as he prayed. Madame was not now able to 
kneel ; she stood upright with her eyes closed and 
her hands folded on the top of her ebony staff. The 
Bible was spread open on the table, a visible and 
sacred covenant, and the solemn tones of prayer for a 
little space pervaded the house. 

Then there was a moment’s silence, a muffled stir, 
and the servants shuffled noiselessly away. Madame 
seated herself and began to knit, and George walked 
to the window to watch for Bernicia’s approach. Only 
Claire did not at once throw off the other worldness : 
she stood motionless, with her eyes cast down and a 
radiance on her face which was something more than 


THE HOUSE OF BOUVERIE. 


29 


mere colour. Bouverie understood that it was the 
shining of the soul through its fleshly veil, and he 
drew her within his arm and blessed her. For men, 
conscious of their own worldliness, love to feel that 
there is on their hearthstones a soul purer than 
their own. 

“George,” he said, “Christian Schwartz lectures to- 
day. He is going to the East Indies ; going to preach 
Christ to those who have never heard the name of 
Christ.” 

“ If he be sent of God, sir, it is a great honour 
for him.” 

“ And after the lecture, there is the Mission Meet- 
ing at St. Paul’s Chapter House. This thing sits near 
my heart. I desire to be present. Can you manage 
affairs without me ? ” 

Before George could answer the door opened with 
a little flurry and Bernicia entered. She seemed to 
bring the sunshine in with her, for suddenly the room 
was flooded with it. “You see I met the spring,” she 
cried, as she courtesied to her grandmother and uncle, 
and then with a pretty bit of affectation made George 
Abney a still deeper reverence. “ I met the spring 
the other day when I was in Richmond Park,” she 
continued, “ and I have lilac’d and syringa’d myself 
to imitate her,” and she spread out her pale yellowish- 
green petticoat and her lilac and cream-white gown, 
and touched her Leghorn hat, which was caught up 
and back, and looped down, with sprays of lilacs and 
syringas. 

No one could resist the gay girl. Her uncle bowed 
with a mock ceremony and then kissed her. Madame 
smiled for a moment, and Claire embraced her with 


30 


BERNICIA. 


happy affection. As for George, his whole soul was in 
the sense of vision. Until Bernicia disappeared with 
Claire his eyes were fixed upon her ; even then his 
spiritual sight perceived the two girls treading the 
wide stairway hand in hand, with the lights of the 
many coloured windows glorifying them. 

“ George!” 

George sighed heavily and answered, “ Sir.” 

“ There is the way of duty and there is the way of 
pleasure. You can take the one or the other, as it 
best pleases you.” 

Then the young man shook himself like one awaken- 
ing from a dream. His spirit became erect and his 
body caught the strength of the attitude. “ The way 
of duty is the way of pleasure, sir,” he answered, 
“ and I will take it on the instant.” 

“ Then I shall go with content to the Old Jewry to 
hear Schwartz?” 

^‘You may go without a care, sir. I hope, indeed, 
that you may better all your desires in this matter.” 
With these words he went away, and Bouverie stood a 
moment at the window and watched him. “ He is a 
good lad,” he said, half to himself and half to madame, 
and the old lady answered : 

“ Have patience, William. Every man plays the 
fool once in his life.” 

“And George has a sufficient Svherefore.’ We 
must admit that, mother. Bernicia is beautiful and 
charming indeed.” 

“ She falls short in every grace, if you measure her 
by Claire.” 

“ There is no common measure between them, and 
there is no comparison. The rose is the rose, and the 


THE HOUSE OF BOUVERIE. 3 1 

lily is the lily, and the Best of Beings is the Maker of 
both. Would it please you, mother, to send a gift by 
me to the India Mission ?” 

“ In faith, it would not, son William. It is only God 
can give with both hands. I know that you will do 
all that falls to the duty of our house, and it is better 
you should do it ; for you are a man of consequence 
in the world. I am an unknown woman.” 

“ God will not count sex with or against you. In 
the building of the walls of Jerusalem, not only Shal- 
lum, but Shallum's daughters helped.” 

“ If God blesses the India Mission, it will not need 
my help.” 

“ Job’s last prosperity was not only of God’s bless- 
ing but of his friend’s charity. Every man gave him 
a piece of money and an earring of gold.” 

“ I give to my own meetinghouse, and I keep a 
student for the ministry with the good Dr. Dodd- 
ridge. England is nearer to me than the ends of 
the earth, son William. Blessed is the work of mod- 
eration.” 

“ It receives only the wages and blessing of modera- 
tion. And I assure you, though India be at the ends 
of the earth, it is of our vitals ; it is an artery of 
England and must be Christianized.” 

“ William, it comes to this — you are for the India 
Mission by all means, I by no means. Contradictions 
beget one another, and I am in too naked a temper 
this morning to say what I do not think ; or give 
where I do not want to give.” 

“ Then good-morning, mother.” 

‘‘ Good-morning, William. Going to the Old Jewry 
take some prudence with you.” 


32 


BERNICIA. 


“ And as you knit, mother, I would have you think. 
You may then come to a more liberal temper." 

“ I may come to eat salt with my picjcled herring, 
but it is not among the likelihoods." 

Nor was it. Madame’s charities were large, but they 
were of a definite kind. The Lime Street Meeting 
gave her a rigid account of them, and the young men 
whose education she had been in continuance-respon- 
sible for, vouched for her wisdom by assuming the 
bands and gown of preachers of the Word. All this 
new-born enthusiasm about foreign missions did not 
affect madame. As she continued her knitting she 
only said to herself : There will be a great crowd 
present, and they will set one another on fire in the 
dark, for as to India, they know by halves and they 
talk by wholesale. I will put my God-pennies in a 
surer bag." 

In about an hour the girls returned to the parlour. 
Bernicia had removed her gay dress, and now wore a 
gown of brown sarsnet and a little tippet of Delhi 
mull ruffled with lace. Madame regarded the change 
with approval. *‘You look more womanly, Bernicia," 
she said ; “ and sevenfold fairer. I wonder that 
Fanny encourages you in such fopperies." 

“ There is no dispensing with them, grandmother. 
We have to dress as the world dresses. It is but good 
manners to ourselves, you know. Where has George 
gone ? I have brought a most melodious song set by 
Mr. Carey, and I expected him to sing it with me. It 
runs in this fashion — very softly discoursed : 

“ ‘ While in a bower with beauty blest.’ ” 

Cease, Bernicia ! I have no mind for playhouse 


THE HOUSE OF BOUVERIE. 


33 


ditties ; and I am glad George is not here to-day, 
either to help or to listen to you.” 

Why, grandmother, you speak angrily ! One would 
think it was a matter of excommunication to sing a 
love ditty.” 

^‘It is a matter beyond discussion — so much for 
that ! ” 

Then the girls sat down to their embroidery frames, 
and Bernicia was snubbed and a little angry. She had 
dressed herself for an afternoon’s outing with George, 
and he had evidently left the house without an apology 
for his absence. 

“ George has behaved very badly,” she whispered 
to Claire. 

“ He will beg you a thousand pardons, Bernicia. 
He will beg them so feelingly that you will be com- 
pelled to forgive him. For only the most important 
business could make him disappoint himself so far.” 

“ I dare say I shall forgive him. We usually make 
up matters as fast as they go wrong. George is all 
courtesy and kindness, milk and honey, but for all 
that, he went away without any assurance that it de- 
solated his life to do so ; or broke his heart, or even 
put him in a perilous passion.” 

Because it did none of these things. A business 
man is obliged to attend to business.” 

“ Business ! Such a dog-trot of a life ! I do believe 
he lives with a single eye to money-getting.” 

“ You know better, Bernicia. You ought to treat 
George more justly. I thought you liked him.” 

“ Yes, I am pleased with him ; I know not why, 
nor care wherefore. I denied myself all my airs to- 
day, and gave him a smile that should have made 


34 


BERNICIA. 


everything in my image and likeness. Then while I 
change my gown, he is gone. However, it is not a 
two-penny matter.” 

“ Bernicia, what have you been doing this week ? ” 
asked madame suddenly. “ I trust you have not 
altogether wasted your time ? ” 

“ In faith, no ! I have knit and sewed, and been to 
dances and concerts, and done my little coquetries 
very well. I was going to hear Mr. Whitefield preach, 
but the Prince of Wales gave a silver cup to be rowed 
for, and this carried everyone to the Thames. Then 
I was tired, and Tarset put me to bed.” 

“ So you missed Mr. Whitefield ? Oh, what a 
pity ! ” ejaculated Claire. 

“Yes, I fell into one of my little rages about it, and 
then Tarset told me I had far better go to St. Paul’s 
and hear morning prayers. She went on about .being 
fair starved for a service, and was so sure that my 
dear mother in heaven was having a heartache for the 
churchless way I was living in, that I fell into a fit of 
crying, and so on till I dropped asleep.” 

“And in the morning, what? ” asked madame, lift- 
ing her eyes from her work and looking steadily at 
Bernicia. 

“ In the morning Tarset and I went to St. Paul’s. 
And I heard the most heavenly music, and the 
prayers seemed to be a part of it, and all was so sol- 
emn and peaceful and melodious that I came away 
sweetly religious and happy. As for Tarset, the tears 
of joy rolled down her cheeks. She said she was not 
a bit opinion-tied, but give her the Church of Eng- 
land and her prayer-book ! They were her mother 
and her mother’s milk, and she had been clear and 


THE HOUSE OF BOUVERIE. 


35 


sheer starved for them ; and as for Mr. Whitefield, or 
Mr. Wesley either, she had heard things that put them 
both in a bad light.” 

“ What things ? ” asked madame sharply. 

“ Well, calling everybody sinners but themselves. 
Tarset says ‘ it isn’t likely, and that neither the quality 
nor the common people are used to it. They don’t 
relish such setdowns, and who would ? ’ She always 
talks that way, does Tarset, when she is heart-hot 
about anything,” explained Bernicia, with a pretty 
emotion. And even madame smiled at the broad 
Northumberland burr, and the homely dialect into 
which Bernicia had naturally fallen as soon as she 
began to talk of Tarset and of Tarset’s opinions. 

Then the conversation drifted back to Lady Pomfret 
and her dresses and entertainments. Claire asked the 
questions, Bernicia described vividly, and madame 
appeared to be lost in thought and quite oblivious to 
the confidences of her granddaughter and Claire. 
But she was listening intently and making deductions, 
for when Bernicia remarked, 

“ My sister Fanny is generosity itself ; for, though 
I have not a sixpence, she always says our purse, ” 
madame said sharply : 

“ This must be mended, Bernicia. Fanny’s purse 
is Lord Pomfret’s purse. I cannot have you de- 
pendent upon him. Is there no income from the 
Cresswell estate ? Your uncle must see to it. In the 
meantime I will make you the allowance of a gentle- 
woman, with some conditions. You must spend none 
of it at the gaming-table, nor for the theatre, nor yet 
for dancing-masters or astrologers. It is for your 
dress and for your charities, for lessons in music, and 


36 


BERNICIA. 


to buy good books and such things as you know I 
would approve. And I would also have you make 
Fanny presents rich enough to release you from any 
sense of obligation to a man who is no relation to our 
family.” 

‘‘ Indeed, grandmother, I give you a thousand 
thanks ! And as for your desires in the spending, I 
will not wrong them one half-penny.” 

Then madame, having encouraged a generous senti- 
ment, found herself carried away with its tide. She 
said : “ I heard you and Clair talking about lace. 

Come and I will show you a treasure of it.” So, 
wondering and pleased, they followed madame to her 
room, a large apartment on the ground floor, built 
especially for her requirements. With a proud delib- 
eration she led the girls to a case of drawers made of 
yew wood and bound with silver, and, as she slowly 
unlocked one after the other, she made them notice 
the exquisite wood, with its delicate veinings and 
shadings of colour. Then, from many coverings, she 
drew forth collars and tippets, fans and trimmings of 
lace, English point and bone, Flanders and Mechlin 
and Brussels — a little fortune in woman’s handiwork, 

“ Why do you not wear some of these lovely things 
yourself, grandmother ? ” asked Bernicia. And Claire 
folded a tippet of Mechlin lace across her shoulders, 
the old lady smiling faintly at her finery. 

“It is the wonder and beauty of rich lace that one * 
is never too old or too young to wear it,” continued 
Bernicia. “ And as for these treasures, grandmother, 

I must leave off exclaiming, for I have no more 
‘oh’s’ left. But, faith, I do wish Fanny could see 
them. She would be taken with a fit of sickness on 


THE HOUSE OF BOUVERIE. 


37 


your hands, grandmother. She would send for a 
doctor, and he would not dare to prescribe anything 
but lace, her brains would be so whimsied between 
Mechlin and Brussels.” 

“ Then I will avoid so great an inconvenience, and 
send Fanny a piece of Mechlin by your hands. And 
as I will have no stepchildren, Claire and you may 
each choose a piece to match your desire.” 

“ Now I know that you love me, grandmother ! ” 
cried Bernicia. 

“ Oh, child, is it thus you judge love — by gifts? ” 

“ How else, indeed ? Can one judge it by what is 
invisible ? ” 

But Claire took the aged hands full of lace be- 
tween her own and kissed them, and then Bernicia 
did likewise, and madame’s eyes grew misty and soft, 
though she said, a little impatiently : 

“ Well, children, it is years since I have done any- 
thing so handsome. But what is freely given may be 
happily worn. So carry away your gifts. I will be 
alone a while.” 

Indeed, they saw madame no more until the dinner 
hour, which William Bouverie, after his removal to 
Bloomsbury, had been compelled to put forward to 
the fashionable hour of four o’clock ; the distance 
between his house and his wharves being too great to 
allow him to break the day with an early dinner. So 
the girls had a lunch of Yorkshire pie and curds and 
cream, and then they wandered about the house, and 
finally went to Claire’s room to rest and talk and 
dress for the evening. 

For her friend, Bernicia Cresswell, Claire had one 
of those romantic admirations which sweet and inno- 


38 


BERNICIA. 


cent natures frequently encourage for their opposites. 
She was attracted by Bernicia’s brilliancy and bravery, 
and also much interested in a life so different from 
her own, and she had a womanly curiosity about its 
dressing, its love-making, and amusements — a curi- 
osity her heart condemned and yet indulged. Almost 
she wished she could feel its many pleasures to be as 
sinless as Bernicia held them. 

This afternoon they fell into a more confidential 
strain, and Bernicia acknowledged that Lord Rashleigh 
was her declared lover, “ and had fretted himself pale 
for her favour.” Perhaps she wished Claire to tell 
George this news as a punishment for his day’s deser- 
tion ; for Bernicia was usually modest about her 
lovers, though at this hour she was not disinclined to 
talk of them. 

“ They are more for number than account,” she 
said, “ but Lord Rashleigh is most impatient under his 
discomfort. He vows he cannot eat or sleep or play, 
and he is sometimes cross for a word of encourage- 
ment. But Fanny says truly that I know not yet my 
own mind, and so shall not be hurried and flurried, for 
if a lover be worth a wedding ring, he improves with 
the keeping.” 

*‘And what says Lord Rashleigh? Does he not 
give his impatience some expression ? ” 

“ He shows a proper spirit enough ; one very suita- 
ble to his race and breeding. All men bear love- 
longing very ill, but a German will drink it or sleep 
it away, and a Frenchman will cry or talk it away. 
Rashleigh, being an Englishman, ‘ Hangs it ! ’ and 
* Damns it ! ’ and is as selfishly impatient as a weaning 
baby.” 


THE HOUSE OF BOUVERIE. 


39 


“ Will you marry him at the last ? ” 

“ Who can tell ? Why should one marry at all in 
this life ? Unmarried people are the fashion in heaven. 
Fanny says there is no necessity to be in a hurry.” 

“ Does not Lord Pomfret urge you to be more kind 
to his friend ? ” 

“ Fanny will not suffer him to talk to me about 
Rashleigh. She tells him to take care of the affairs of 
the state, and leave my little love affairs to her. 
You must know that Lord Pomfret is always full of 
his dirty, quarrelsome politics. His talk is of the 
European nations. You should see these statesmen, 
Claire, throwing their dice every evening and prophe- 
sying war. They never expect anything but war, and 
if war, then of course victory. When the world is at 
peace they are unhappy, until someone begins to play 
the devil for them.” 

“ Bernicia, are you not afraid to speak in that way ? 
I can tell you that madame does not like anyone but 
divines to talk so familiarily of the — devil.” 

Claire said the last word very softly and reluctantly, 
and Bernicia laughed. “ La, my dear ! ” she cried, 
“ I generally speak very well of him. He is such an 
important person, one cannot talk about him as if he 
was not in good society. How would grandmother 
like to be called Mine. Bouverie ? ” And Bernicia 
mimicked Claire’s abashed pronunciation with a 
twinkling timorous manner that annoyed her. 

“ I do not think it is right,” she answered, “ to 
make any comparisons between your grandmother 
and — and ” 

“ The other person. It is not. I was very wrong 
to do so, especially as grandmother has covered all 


40 


BERNICIA. 


her shortcomings to me with such lace. Come, let us 
dress ourselves to the very height ! Give me a needle 
and some flax, Claire, and I will trim the front of my 
green petticoat with it, and ruffle my throat band, and 
my sleeves, and make myself ‘ Spring in a mist.’ As 
for you, only cross that lovely tippet over your sky- 
blue tabinet, and you will look like an angel. Grand- 
mother will be delighted.” 

“ Oh ! I think you are mistaken. Such dressing 
will not please her.” 

Yes, it will. You may do anything, so it be with 
an assurance. Quick ! the needles and the flax.” 

I know madame better.” 

“ My sweet Claire, madame does not know herself. 
She thinks she is greedy, and she is generous. She 
thinks she is pious, and she is worldly. She has no 
idea what a delightful old lady she really is. Come, 
let us have a venture ! ” 

The girl had leaped to her feet in an enthusiasm, 
and even as she spoke was spreading out her green 
petticoat and puckering the lace across its front width. 
Then Claire gave her the needle and thread, smiling 
at her impulsive hurry. She had all the native 
strength of character to oppose Bernicia's plans, but 
she did not think it an occasion for contradiction. 
Perhaps after all Bernicia might be right. So she fell 
into Bernicia’s mood, watching her as the needle sped 
in and out, until the lovely filament hung like fairy’s 
work over the rich brocades. And how they chattered 
and exclaimed, and admired, as the business of the 
toilet went on. Two girls never made a merrier rob- 
ing, and when it was finished Bernicia was laughing 
with delight, as she danced up to the looking-glass. 


THE HOUSE OF BOUVERIE. 


41 


“ I am in love with myself,” she cried. “ I am so 
airy and so fairy ! Do I look like a butterfly, Claire? 
Do I ? do I ? do I look like a butterfly, Claire ? ” she 
cried, in a charming crescendo. 

“You are enchanting from top to toe, Bernicia. 
Poor George ! ” 

“ Poor George ! I am amazingly sorry for him.” 
Then she examined Claire with an air of satisfaction. 
“ In faith, I must give you back your compliment,” 
she said. “You look celestial, Claire. Sky-blue silk 
and a Brussel’s tippet is ravishing. What a pity you 
have not a lover to see you ! ” 

“ Once I had a lover,” said Claire very softly. 

“ ‘ Had ! Ah, Clare, ^had* is such a word as is full 
of tragedy. It comes from the house which astrolo- 
gers call * the end of all things.’ Now you are going 
to tell me a story, — something strange and secret, 
something sad and passionate, — for nothing is a wonder 
in love.” 

“ Nothing strange or secret, sad or passionate, can 
I tell you. ’Tis a very plain matter indeed. He was 
George’s friend, and they were at school together. 
And I was at school in the same town, so whenever 
George called to see me, his friend came with him. 
That is all. He never told me that I was loved by 
him, but I knew it. Then his father sent him to 
travel, and if his love has kept through chance and 
change, I may have a lover yet.” 

“ Is that all?” 

“ That is all.” 

“ His name, Claire ? Is it within my knowledge ? ” 

“ He is the son of the rich Mr. Hatton of Hatton- 
Hurst. His name is Oliver Augustus Hatton.” 


42 


BERNICIA. 


“ A lordly name ! I hope he fits it on every side. 
Is he handsome ? Is he tall ? Is he well bred ? Is 
he sprightly ? Can he love ? Has he honour ? In 
short, is he the most perfect character in existence ? 
If not, he is unworthy of you.” 

I have told you so much soberly.” 

Soberly ! How can anyone be sober in love ? 
Do you not weep for him ? Do you not long for 
him ? Do you not write to him ? When do you 
expect to see him again ? ” 

“ I do not weep for him, nor long for him, nor yet 
write to him. And he has seen so many new faces, he 
may have forgotten mine. I may be loved no longer.” 

“ La, I do not think that ! I heard Sister Fanny 
say she had never found that people loved each other 
less for living asunder. She was speaking of Lord 
and Lady Thurston, who see next to nothing of each 
other.” 

‘‘ See how we trifle, Bernicia. I am sure it is time 
we made our appearance. George will count every 
minute a loss that he sees you not.” 

So they went down fo the parlour in a little hurry, 
and found that William Bouverie was already there. 
He was sitting with a stranger, a man who had lived 
in Riga for fifteen years, carrying on business there, 
mainly for the interest of the house of Bouverie. He 
looked at Claire and Bernicia as if they had suddenly 
descended from Jupiter, and for a few moments he 
could hardly continue his conversation. George was 
standing by the window, but he was watching the 
door, eager and impatient. Madame had laid aside 
her knitting, and was lying back in her chair with 
closed eyes. Her face was so old, her look so far off 


THE HOUSE OF BOUVERIE. 


43 


and chill, that it required an effort to associate her 
with the passionate sense of gain, and life, and love, 
explaining the three men who were talking or watch- 
ing beside her. 

However, madame’s eyes opened wide enough when 
she saw the two girls tricked out so bravely with the 
precious lace. But she found no time to express her 
disapprobation, for Bernicia, in a low voice, imme- 
diately began to explain how they had both dressed 
entirely to honour her gifts. It was but right,” she 
said, “ that madame should see her lace worn before 
others had that pleasure. And was it not becoming ? 
Neither Claire nor herself,” she asserted, “ would rob 
the Exchequer in exchange for it,” etc., etc. So the 
only bitter thing madame could find to say was, 
“ Bernicia Cresswell, you are so bad and so good, I 
know not how to treat you.” And Bernicia answered, 
“ Treat me as if I were a very angel, grandmother.” 

The dinner went by with a stately order. The best 
viands, the oldest wines, the most silent and effective 
service made the occasion a striking contrast to the 
merry glass-clinking, health-drinking, controversial, 
gossippy, social affairs which Lady Pomfret called 
“dinners.” William Bouverie and his friend talked 
of hemp and masts, of tallow and skins, of buying at 
two per cent, and selling at four, and George was 
continually drawn into the conversation and made to 
observe this and that, because, as Bouverie said, “'Tis 
not unlikely you may go to Riga before the year be 
past.” Then George looked at Bernicia, and Bernicia 
pretended to have heard nothing concerning Riga. 
She was asking Claire questions about a wine 
syllabub. 


44 


BERNICIA. 


After dinner the girls retired with madame, and 
Bernicia remarked with an irritating little yawn : “You 
may see how much more important hides and tallow 
and hemp are than mission lectures. My Uncle 
Bouverie never said a word about the India Mission. 
The Riga business was far more personal and 
important.” 

“ You are not to criticise your elders, miss,” said 
madame. “Your uncle knows the proper time for 
every subject. Hemp and tallow have their hour, and 
higher things are not to be mixed up with them.” 

“ I but made the remark, grandmother.” 

“ Because you thought it witty. But whatever wit 
says, it is always contriving its own ruin. Take my 
word for that, Bernicia.” 

She was going then to have her say concerning the 
extravagance of wearing lace, instead of keeping it in 
prepared papers and locked drawers, when George 
’entered, and he was followed immediately by William 
Bouverie. The stranger had gone, and the day’s work 
was over. The twilight was approaching and the 
house was at perfect peace. Then the weary mer- 
chant looked at the young people with a happy pride 
and said : “ Sing me my favourite anthem.” And when 
it was accomplished he had the atmosphere which he 
desired. He rose and began to walk about the room, 
and as he walked to tell the story that lay like a 
golden song below all the fretful stir of the city, and 
the clamour of trade and travel. 

“ I would that you had been at the Old Jewry this 
day, mother,” he said, addressing himself to madame. 
“ Dr. Watts was present, and ’tis like he will never be 
here again, for he is near to the kingdom of heaven.” 


THE HOUSE OF BOUVERIE. 


45 


“ I saw him,” answered madame, “ when he was 
young, very modest and learned, and full of love as 
was St. John.” 

“ He is now old and feeble, and so weak that he 
leaned upon Dr. Doddridge and the Rev. William 
Romaine as he spoke. But oh, how rich were his 
words ! I was told that I should see a man with one 
foot in the grave, and I found a man with one foot in 
heaven. And we sang together two of his hymns, 
knowing that we should sing them no more together 
in this world.” 

Children ! ” cried madame, with a singular emo- 
tion, “ before Dr. Watts gave the Church these hymns, 
we might be Christians in our sermons, but we were 
mere Jews in our praises. Ten thousand and ten 
thousand times ten thousand holy men and women 
never sang the name of Jesus until they went to 
heaven. Nothing but the Psalms of David had been 
sung in our meetinghouse till I was an old woman. 
Then one Sabbath Dr. Doddridge gave out the hymn: 

“ ‘ Give me the wings of faith to rise/ 

and we could not sing it for weeping. After that we 
sang hymns constantly, and though my voice was old 
and thin, I went around my house singing hymns 
from morning to night.” 

“ Yet, grandmother,” said Bernicia, with an eager air 
of defence, “ what are hymns to the Psalms ? Has 
anything ever happened for which you cannot sing or 
pray a psalm ? Mother used to say their music was 
always ready made, and I know when I was in such 
great loneliness and sorrow, I never missed comfort 
in my prayer-book.” And this girl with the light of 


46 


fiERNICiA. 


holy feeling upon her face was a new Bernicia to her 
relatives. Her uncle stepped closer to her and 
stroked her hair and cheek, and madame smiled, and 
Claire clasped her hand, and George trembled with 
love and joy and said to himself, “ She is a very rose 
of Eden.*' 

“ But the missionary, son William ? ” 

“ He came in his own time, mother. Before it we 
had some stirring words from Dr. Chandler, remind- 
ing us of the old Nonconforming confessors, and 
comparing our riches and sloth with their glorious 
sufferings and labours and martyrdoms. And now 
that we sat at ease, no man making us afraid, he said 
it was our manifest duty to send the Gospel from the 
East even to the West. And at these words Schwartz 
leaped to his feet, and into the India Mission he 
plunged like a man with but one thought. And his 
words flew like arrows, and our hearts burned like 
live coals, and we were on fire with him, so that when 
he cried out : ‘ Who will go forth with the everlasting 
Gospel to the heathen ? ’ many young men leaped to 
their feet, and you could see in their faces that they 
were ready to follow Schwartz from the pole to the 
equator.” 

Madame was greatly moved, for she laid down her 
knitting and looked steadily at her son, who con- 
tinued, “ The English swords have cut a path for the 
English Bible, mother, and shall we not send it ? ” 
Then he took the Bible in his hands, and called to- 
gether his household, and read and spoke to them 
until the long twilight vanished, and the air of the 
room was like a highly strung harp, sensitive to un- 
seen influences, and ready to snap with emotion. 


THE HOUSE OF BOUVERIE. 


47 


It was a relief when a servant began to light the 
wax candles in the silver candlesticks, and the rest to 
move slowly away. Their exit was answered by a 
deep sigh from every breast, and madame rose and 
laid upon the Bible several large gold pieces. Then 
George did likewise, and Claire, putting her hand into 
her guardian’s hand, said : “Give something for me, 
out of the money which is my own.’’ 

But Bernicia had nothing to offer. She looked at 
the gold with shining eyes, and then stooped and 
kissed it. “ I have only my love and pity to give,’’ 
she said, “ for as you know, uncle, I am poor as Job. 
So pray, judge me not as wanting in charity.” 

“ My dear niece, you stand accountable only to a 
Judge of whom you will have no reason to" complain. 
But it is high time you were at rest, the more so as 
I wish to speak with you early in the morning on a 
matter of importance.” 

She wondered a little at this charge, but did not let 
the wonder hold her eyes open. Her fear was that 
her grandmother wished to make her stay longer than 
one day each week, and this demand she was fully 
resolved to oppose. “ My time is well arranged, and 
I will not have it changed,” she said, laughing at the 
rhyme ; “ a day once in the week is not disagreeable 
among good people, for I like to feel I have a cap- 
acity for more lives than one, — for religion and virtue, 
for taste also, and the heau-monde ^ — but one day is suf- 
ficient for the proof. In the morning ^vhen I awake 
I will prepare my arguments.” 

In the morning she did not require them. The evil 
we qualify for is seldom the evil we have to face, and 
Bernicia was quite unprepared for her uncle’s confi- 


BERNICIA. 


dence. “ I had a caller last night,” he said, drawing 
Bernicia into a chair by his side. “ I had a caller whose 
business touched you and Lady Pomfret very closely. 
It was the cousin who brought you to London.” 

“ Allan Cresswell. I thought he had gone to in- 
quire after my brother Harry.” 

“ He has returned. He says Harry will not make 
any submissions to the present government ; further, 
that the foolish boy intends to enter the service of 
France.” 

‘‘ I will swear it a lie ! And I can tell you the rest 
of his business, uncle. He thinks Cresswell may now 
be given to a man as loyal as he has taken care to 
prove himself.” 

“ He spoke of paying you and Lady Pomfret a con- 
sideration in money for your right.” 

“ I will accept no money for my right. If King 
George takes it, I cannot help the wrong, but I will 
not sell my birthright to Allan Cresswell. No ! I 
would not sell him my cast-off shoe.” 

“ He made the offer in clear terms. He proposes 
to apply for the succession, and to pay you and Lady 
Pomfret a daughter’s portion from the estate.’’ 

“ The daughters’ portions have always come to con- 
sideration after the heirs’, and the widows’, and the 
younger brothers’ rights have been served. Tarset 
has told me all about the girls of Cresswell. Their 
rights sound well enough, but they are small indeed, 
or Cousin Allan never would have broached them.” 

“ He is poor, and he wishes me to lend him the 
money to prosecute his own claim, and pay your 
claims, and so save Cresswell in the family name.” 
j “ His claim ! When did Allan Cresswell possess a 


THE HOUSE OF BOUVERIE. 


49 


claim on Cresswell ? Lend him the money if you 
wish, he will never pay you it again.” 

At this moment George Abney entered the room, 
and Bernicia stood up with flashing eyes and told him 
how Allan Cresswell proposed to rob Lady Pomfret 
and herself of their birthrights. 

George looked at the uncle for an explanation, 
which was rapidly given. “ The facts are these, 
George. Allan Cresswell wants to be lord of Cress- 
well. He says he is the only loyal representative of 
the name. He believes the king will give him the 
succession, and he offers me a mortgage in advance 
if I will risk the gold to push his claim at court, and 
pay off Lady Pomfret and Bernicia.” 

“And there is not gold enough in London town to 
pay off Bernicia Cresswell ! ” cried the girl, with her 
head up and her face in a flame. “ If he could buy 
the king and the whole court, he would still have to 
reckon with me. He shall never live in my father’s 
castle, nor sit in my father’s chair, nor till my father’s 
fields. I will make Harry challenge him to a death 
combat — and if Harry is too poor a man to do so, I 
will take the matter in my own hand.” 

“ Not so ! ” said George, speaking with a quiet 
decision ; “ if it comes to an issue of steel, I am at 
your service. Though our cousinship be distant, you 
are still my kindred ; and I can use a sword in your 
cause as well as any man.” 

“ Now, sir, I know we are of the same race and 
blood ! ” and she lifted her lovely face with such a 
shining generous gratitude, that George, had he dared 
his privilege, might at that moment have kissed her 
without offence. 

^ >• ■ 


BERNICIA. 


50 

Bernicia’s uncle witnessed this pledge of sympathy 
with some impatience. 

“ Come, come, Bernicia ! " he said, “ take some 
reason with your rights. My wish is to secure justice 
for the children of my sister Frances. This before 
all else. But you must see as plain as I do, that this 
is a matter for cool, deliberate calculation ; and that 
your pretty heroics will count for nothing in the ver- 
dict. Let us be considerate of our available resources. 
What, for instance, can Lord Pomfret do 

“ Whatever my sister Fanny tells him to do.” 

“ He is in favour with the king, and all his political 
hopes hang on the House of Hanover. How, then, 
will he dare to advocate lenity toward so notorious a 
Jacobite as your brother Harry ?” 

“ He will do what Fanny tells him to do, though it 
were to disobey king, lords, and commons.” 

Tush ! A man does what he wants to do.” 

“With exceptions; many and various.” 

“ Have you any powerful friends ? ” 

“ Lord Rashleigh is of the queen’s circle. And 
Fanny is a favourite with Her Majesty, besides which 
it will go hard with me if I win not friends for my 
own cause, and enemies for Allan Cresswell s. Let 
him explain where he has been, and on what business. 
He also is a Cresswell, and therefore a fit object for 
suspicion. He says this and that about Harry ; I 
will swear that he has just as likely been with Charles 
Stuart as with Harry Cresswell. Oh, you may trust me 
to make his character bleed on every side ! ” 

“ But you must not prejudice the truth, Bernicia.” 

“ In faith, uncle, there are times when truth may be 
as ’unseasonable as sense. I shall only need to bid 


THE HOUSE OF BOUVERIE. 


51 


Tarset find out where the creature has been. And 
wherever he has been straying, I will warrant sticks 
enough can be gathered to make a fire for his sacri- 
fice.” 

“This is all nothing but peradventure. The case 
between him and me will come to pounds sterling. 
Shall I make terms with him ? ” 

“Listen not to him. Put him off with that con- 
venient word, anotiy anon. Do but keep him without 
money, and you tie his hands, and make his promises 
babble, and so bring him to discredit. I have seen so 
much since I came to London, I assure you, uncle. 
Allan Cresswell !** 

She ceased speaking at the name, but the calm, 
scornful dropping of the eyelids, expressed a sovereign 
contempt beyond the reach of syllables. 

She found Fanny in a proper mood to echo all her 
indignation. 

“You have kept me waiting a whole hour, miss ! “ 
she cried. “ Have you been to meeting } Good- 
ness ! Gracious ! Where did you get that lace ? ” 

“ Grandmother gave it to me. She also sent you 
some.” 

“ Pray let me have it.” 

“ Mechlin, pure Mechlin, Fanny.” 

“ As I live, Mechlin ! Well, Bernicia, this adorable 
lace is the only event that has gone to please me 
since you went away. I will swear some retrograde 
planet is hanging over us. Everything is upside 
down.” 

“ And what think you ? Allan Cresswell says 
Harry will not make submission.” 

“ 'Tis like enough. Harry is made of iron.” 


52 


BERNICIA. 


“ That he is going to offer his sword to the King of 
France.” 

“ That is a lie ! ” 

“ And Cousin Allan is making suit for the succes- 
sion to Cresswell.” 

“ IV/iatr* 

And propositions through Uncle Bouverie to buy 
our rights.” 

“ Lord, what a villain ! What a tenfold villain ! 
Why does not Harry come back ? Men are such very 
cowards. Yes, they are. I would like to tell Harry 
what I think of him. Now, what is to be done ? I 
wish Lord John were here, though, to be sure, he 
would only bite his lip and say ‘ Egad, Fanny ! ’ ” 

“ Will he help us ? ” 

“ Will — he — help — us ? Pray what else will he do ? 
Why did not my heart bode me this misfortune ? 
Why had I no dream, nor any sign whatever ? I am 
all unprepared.” 

”And here comes my Lady Townley, with her fan 
spread and her ribbons flying, and all her usual airs 
and lassitudes.” 

“Then help me, Bernicia, for I must keep my 
tongue from temper. I must even flatter her from her 
top-feather to her shoe-buckle, for she is now of the 
queen’s bed-chamber and may be of use to us.” 


CHAPTER III. 


THERE ARE SO MANY WAYS OF LOVING. 

The visit of Lady Townley was more full of interest 
than she intended. I ’have but a moment on my 
way to the Ranelagh Garden,” she exclaimed, 
‘‘where there is a masquerade in the Venetian 
manner. Are you not going?” 

“We may make the visit in the evening, Sabrina. 
I hear that we shall have fireworks.” 

“Yes, and the loges are turned into little shops for 
the sale of refreshments and lemonade. There will 
be excellent music, and as for the dancing, we shall 
make it ourselves. Am I not dressed for a revel ? ” 

“Indeed,” answered Lady Pomfret, “your dress is 
vastly becoming. Is there anything new happening ? 
I hear no talk except of politics and play. Lord 
Pomfret, as you know, is very much averse to gossip. 
And pray, my dear, how do you now manage to 
pass the time, for I hear you have sent your daughter 
to school ? ” 

“ There was good occasion, I assure you. She was 
learning the tricks of the girls of this wicked age ; 
pert little hoydens, all of them, flirting their fans and 
ogling the men. As for passing the time, I do not 
find it difficult. I lie in bed till noon, I dress and 
dine, and read the new romances ; I play cards or 
go to the theatre until midnight. Besides, I have my 
page, and my lapdog, and my monkey.” 


53 


54 


BERNICIA. 


Ere Lady Pomfret could answer, Jackanapes en- 
tered. He was dressed in scarlet, and he carried 
a letter on a lacquered tray. So for a few minutes 
Bernicia talked ' to their visitor of the lotteries and of 
Mr. Keaton’s dancing classes, for Lady Pomfret, with 
a polite “ by your permission,” was giving her attenr 
tion to the unexpected missive. 

“ It is only a summons from the Countess Selina,” 
she said, with a scornful smile, as she laid the paper 
down. She thinks I may find it to my eternal wel- 
fare to hear Mr. Whitefield preach, and so she asks 
me to her house in Park Street next Sunday night.” 

“If you would be in the fashion, you must go, 
Fanny. Nothing is so much the rage at present as 
Methodism. I confess that I feel an interest in Mr. 
Whitefield. It is so charming to hear him tell such 
high sinners as the Duchess of Buckingham how vile 
they are. To be sure the duchess was very angry, 
and after the last lecture she assured the Countess 
Huntington that Mr. Whitefield’s doctrines were 
highly repulsive, and strongly tinctured with imper- 
tinence toward his superiors.” 

“ And what do you think, Sabrina ? ” 

“ I think with the duchess, that it is monstrous to 
be told that you have a heart as sinful as the common 
wretches that crawl upon the earth.” 

“ And does Mr. Whitefield say things that are so 
highly insulting and offensive ?** 

“ I assure you that I have heard him. Indeed, his 
sentiments are utterly at variance with high rank and 
good breeding. No person of fashion can relish 
them, and it is quite true that the Countess of Suffolk 
flew into a passion with Lady Huntington after one 


THERE ARE SO MANY WAYS OF LOVING. 


of Mr. Whitefield’s sermons, which she averred was 
preached at her. There was no quieting the storm. 
Lady Betty Germain tried to explain, and Mrs. Ancas- 
ter tried to persuade, but the Beauty was offended 
beyond all reasoning with, and so left the house in a 
fury. It was very entertaining, you may believe me.'* 

“ And I hear that my friend Lady Chesterfield also 
leans to the Methodists.” 

“ La, my dear ! The great Chesterfield is one of the 
elect ladies ! She is always ready to ‘ show out,* 
even at the court. 'Tis said both the king and the 
queen are half-won over by her.” 

“ 0-h-h ! ” cried Lady Pomfret, with a mirthful 
peal. “ Oli-h-h ! you make me tipsy with laughing, 
Sabrina. That would be delectable ! We have had 
a Dutch Calvinistic king, and we have had a German 
Lutheran king, and shall we indeed have a Methodist 
one ? That is past believing.” 

“ If you like not my words, dust them away,” 
answered Lady Townley a trifle haughtily ; but I 
can tell you, the whole palace is ringing about the 
Chesterfield and Mrs. Greenfield, who are, as the 
elect say, ‘ much owned ’ at court. They give them- 
selves a parcel of airs too, and their self-complacency 
is unbottomed.” 

“ Indeed, sister,” said Bernicia, “ I am all curiosity 
and impatience. Shall we not go to Lady Hunting- 
ton’s on Sunday night ? ” 

“If Lord Pomfret is willing, Bernicia.” 

Then Lady Townley gave her friend back her own 
incredulous exclamation : 

“ You make me tipsy with laughing, Fanny. If 
Lord Pomfret is willing ! All the world knows that 


BERNICIA. 


56 

if reasons were rained down from heaven upon Lord 
Pomfret, not one of them would fit him, unless you 
told him it ought to do so. 'Tis faith, Fanny.” 

** ’Tis fiddlesticks, Sabrina.” 

^‘Well, my dear creature, I have prattled away my 
time to a degree, so thank your stars, I am going. 
I shall see at least fifty of our acquaintances at 
Ranelagh.” 

“ I cry your mercy, then. Will you rail at me 
through the whole fifty?” 

“ Do not suspect me, Fanny. I shall say no ill of 
you behind your back, unless you turn Methodist.” 

The sisters looked at each other and smiled. The 
exception seemed so improbable they did not even 
allude to it, but immediately began to discuss the sub- 
ject of Cresswell and of Harry’s succession to it. 
For suddenly the fine old castle had appealed to both 
hearts in its aspect of home. They reminded them- 
selves that Harry was now of age, and really Sir 
Harry Cresswell. 

“And he ought to come back to England at once,” 
said Fanny, “and we ought to make it possible for him 
to do so. The time is very favourable for our purpose.” 

Lady Pomfret was quite correct in this estimate of 
the opportunity, although her judgment was the result 
of intuition, rather than of reason. For the dreadful 
cruelties of Cumberland in Scotland, and the piteous 
deaths of Lords Kilmarnock, Balmerino, and Lovat 
in London, had more than satisfied the nation’s con- 
ception of political justice. The king himself was 
conscious that the slightest further strain might cause 
a decided reaction of feeling, and he was far too 
shrewd a monarch to wish to try conclusions for his 


THERE ARE SO MANY WAYS OF LOVING. 57 

crown a second time. It was therefore not unlikely 
that a signal opportunity for showing clemency would 
be favourably considered. 

These things Lady Pomfret felt, just as she felt the 
atmospheric conditions prefiguring a fine or a wet 
day ; and she accepted them with the same unreason- 
ing conviction of their accuracy. 

“ Harry must be induced to return home at once,” 
she said positively, “ and I think I will ask Lord 
Rashleigh to go to France and talk to him. Rashleigh 
is dead in love with you, Bernicia. Throw your glove 
into France and send him for it.” 

“ It is not my pleasure to give Lord Rashleigh so 
much claim on my gratitude. If he redeemed my glove 
with Harry, he might claim the hand that threw it.” 

‘‘Well, Bernicia?” 

“ I am not in a humour to give so much.” 

“Then Lord John must find a messenger. And 
that is hard on Lord John, for if his interference be 
discovered, he will have questions put that I shall 
hardly find him wit to answer. But one thing is cer- 
tain, we must go to Lady Huntington’s on Sunday 
night. Much of what we have heard may be false, 
but this or that, there will remain enough of likelihood 
in the Countess of Chesterfield’s Methodism to bespeak 
our attention. For I can tell you, the countess is very 
omnipotent with the Hanover people. Will you ride 
with me ? ” 

“ Where will you ride ? ” 

“First to Jermyn Street to shop a little, and 'tis not 
impossible that I may find myself at Ranelagh.” 

“ I will be excused, Fanny. My brain is as dizzy 
as an hour-tossed shuttlecock, I will send for Tar- 


BERNICIA. 


58 

set, and let her make a baby of me. If we could get 
Tarset to go for Harry.” 

“If we could get a fiddlestick to go for Harry ! 
And if you would only go to sleep and dream a 
dream, Bernicia, that indeed might help us to sort 
affairs a little, for at the present we are all ups and 
downs in the matter.” 

So Bernicia sent for Tarset and let her take off her 
finery, and comb out her long hair, and feed her with 
sops in wine. And gradually the girl opened her heart 
to her old friend, and found that Tarset was not only 
much interested, but also capable of making a practi- 
cal suggestion. 

“ Send your cousin George Abney for Sir Harry,” 
she said. “ I will warrant him canny enough to find 
business to cover his journey. Up and tell him what 
you want, for he thinks much of you. What hinders 
you from asking him ? ” 

“Nothing, Tarset, but the time and place to see him.” 

“ Here is your gold-edged note paper. Write him 
a letter. I will see that he gets it. Tell him that we 
are going to morning prayers at St. Paul’s to-morrow, — 
God knows we need them, — and your cousin can meet 
us as we come out of church. It won’t put him about 
at all. Why should it ? ” 

“I will do as you advise, Tarset.” 

So Bernicia wrote in the small pointed hand then 
considered feminine : 

Dear Cousin : 

I am going to morning prayers at St. Paul’s Church to mor- 
row, and I have a favour to ask of you. Shall I see you as I come 
out of the church ? 

Your true cousin, 


Bernicia Cresswell. 


THERE ARE SO MANY WAYS OF LOVING. 59 

When Bernicia was dressed for the evening, Tarset 
took charge of the note. She felt sure that George 
Abney would leave his home after the dinner-hour 
for one of the clubs or coffee houses, and she was not 
disappointed. Lingering near the entrance to Blooms- 
bury Square, she saw him leisurely coming down the 
steps of the Bouverie mansion, and she walked for- 
ward to meet him. His head was so high, and his 
mind so preoccupied, that he would have passed the 
woman, had not her courtesy and her ‘ Honoured Sir ’ 
arrested his attention. Then he looked at Tarset 
gravely and inquiringly, with that dim kind of re- 
membrance his transient knowledge of her accounted 
for. 

But when she offered him Bernicia’s message, and 
said “ From my mistress. Miss Cresswell, sir," his whole 
air and attitude changed. He touched his hat to the 
note, as Tarset delivered it, and then taking pains to 
avoid injuring the seal, he opened the letter with a 
lingering tenderness of manner, and read the few lines 
it contained. His handsome face brightened into 
more living beauty, and in spite of his powerful will, 
the paper fluttered in his hands as he said, with a 
forced indifference : 

“ Return with me. In a few minutes I will give you 
an answer for your mistress." 

The answer was on Bernicia’s dressing-table when 
she came home from the theatre, but Tarset being 
weary with her walk was fast asleep. Bernicia touched 
her impatiently and said : 

“ ’Tis easy seen you take but little thought for our 
trouble, Tarset." 

“ Missie, I am old and you are young. I have 


6o 


BERNICIA. 


walked, and you have been carried in your chair. I 
have been alone, and you ” 

“ I wish I had been alone. On the contrary, I have 
had the most odious company, and yet have been com- 
pelled to smile and say I found it all vastly enter- 
taining. Oh, the essenced fops ! Oh, the simpering 
young gallants ! Oh, the fools whose brains no 
hellebore can cure ! 'Tis a miracle how I have 
endured them. And they were not even sensible of 
my ridicule. ’Tis a vile world ! 'Tis a very vile 
world ! Thank the moon we are mostly all so 
crazy that we do not know wc have lost our 
senses.” 

“ Well, miss, if I wanted a bad opinion of folk I 
would set a young girl to give it. Forty years ago I 
too used to say. Lord, this person is so bad ; and that 
one is so bad ; and the other one is worse ! But I 
have found out that we are all pretty much of a much- 
ness ; and so I ” 

Don’t cut me short in that way, Tarset. Did you 
take my letter ? And pray if you did, how was it 
received ? ” 

“ The answer is on your table, miss.” 

Then Bernicia walked to the dressing-table, laid 
down her fan, and lifted George’s letter. With a 
haste that was a remarkable contrast to her cousin’s 
charming carefulness, she tore open the sealed paper, 
and holding it off with both hands, she read aloud 
these words : 

“ My Beloved Cousin : 

“ Listen to that, Tarset. I called him ‘ dear,’ and he 
answers ‘ dear ’ with ‘ My beloved.’ 


THERE ARE SO MANY WAYS OF LOVING. 6l 

“ I am transported with the honour of your note, nor can I by 
any words convince you of my sincere impatience to answer your 
request. But without fail I shall be at your service to-morrow. 

“Your devoted cousin, 

“ George Abney.’' 

She read the signature in a mocking, grandiloquent 
manner, with her head thrown backward, and her foot 
forward. ‘ Devoted cousin ! ’ See how he improves 
upon my adjective, Tarset. Oh, yes ! give a lover an 
inch, and he takes a couple of yards on the instant. 
My beloved cousin indeed ! Grant me patience to 
digest such words.” 

“ Is he not your lover, miss ? ” 

“Lord! what is a lover, Tarset? Tell me. As I 
heard last week in the play, one makes them as fast as 
one pleases, and they live as long as one pleases, and 
they die as soon as one pleases, and then, if one 
pleases, one makes more. Unbuckle my shoes, Tarset. 
I am in a pettish kind of a temper, and I wish to go to 
sleep. As for lovers, I do not care for any mother’s 
son of them — not a rush candle.” 

Then she glanced at her prayer-book, which Tarset 
had laid open at the proper collect, but she did not 
say it. She was very tired and her thoughts were not 
heavenward, and she resolved to pay up all spiritual 
arrears in the morning at St. Paul’s Cathedral — 
“which is the proper place,” she thought. 

It was a royal day even in the city streets. Spring 
was in the air and in the people’s hearts, and the ride 
to St. Paul’s through the pleasant tumult was a cheer- 
ful thing. Bernicia was laughing and chatting gaily 
as they reached the church. Then Tarset's sudden 
quiet affected her, and the chill of the great vestibule, 


62 


BERNICIA. 


and the solemn gloom and stillness of the temple, and 
the low strains of the organ, all went to her impressi- 
ble heart. 

Friday’s morning service was a favourite one, and 
there were many present ; some, alas ! only to flirt and 
ogle or to see their friends, and gossip afterward in 
the pleasant yard. But Tarset, at least, was in dead^ 
earnest. She led Bernicia to a chair, and then knelt 
down beside her with an unmistakable and joyful 
adoration. And Bernicia, who was the most sensitive 
and radiating of mortals, was quickly responsive to her 
surroundings ; the more so, as the vast spaces were 
instantly filled with the murmur of many voices utter- 
ing in unison the noblest of all confessions and 
implorations : 

“We have erred and strayed like lost sheep, 

We have followed too much the devices and desires of our own 
hearts, 

We have offended against Thy holy laws, 

We have left undone those things which we ought to have 
done. 

And we have done those things which we ought not to have 
done, 

And there is no health in us. 

But Thou, O Lord, have mercy upon us miserable offenders ; 

Spare Thou those, O God, who confess their faults ; 

Restore Thou those who are penitent. 

According to Thy promises declared unto mankind, in Christ 
Jesus our Lord.” 

Here the easily wearied spiritual effort flagged, and 
she was only sensible that her thoughts wandered, and 
were recalled, and wandered again, until in that human 
movement of rising numbers she was lifted to her feet 
and her soul carried heavenward on the glorious wings 


THERE ARE SO MANY WAYS OF LOVING. 63 

of the Venite exultemus Domino. And as the Joyful 
melody rose higher and higher into the stupendous 
dome, she said rapturously to herself : “ It is like the 
singing of angels ! I wish that I could always be reli- 
gious, for it is a great happiness.” 

But the spiritual emotions, so deep and real in Tar- 
set’s case, were but as the ripple of wind on restless 
water in Bernicia’s ; and she was ready to be weary 
when t\ie morning service was over. So that she felt 
it a relief to see the stately figure of George Abney 
standing motionless at the entrance of the cathedral, 
for it brought her in contact again with the material 
outside world which she loved. As her eyes fell upon 
him, he turned with an eager look toward her, for he 
was evidently in a mood of great, though well con- 
trolled, excitement, and he spoke with some decision. 

‘‘ I see, cousin, that you have a coach. Let us drive 
to St. James’s Park : there we can walk under the trees, 
and you can command my service as you desire.” 

And Bernicia was quite in the humour for anything 
unusual. She permitted George to carry out his 
desire, and only chatted to him as they drove through 
the busy thoroughfare of the sights they met on the 
way. 

People of all kinds and conditions pressed close, and 
all the undistinguishable noise born of human struggle 
was in their ears, but Bernicia was in that kind of pas- 
sive elation which regards nothing as very definite ; 
while George was certainly unconscious of any per- 
sonality, or of any reality, but the sweet woman sitting 
at his side. The carriage, with its four black Barbary 
horses, and its outriders, went creeping or struggling 
or racing down the Strand and the Mall, but no sense 


64 


BERNICIA. 


of either motion or obstruction marred George’s satis- 
faction. He felt himself carried along as in a delicious 
dream. He was in Paradise, and his Eve was a 
woman whose like had never been on this earth 
before. 

In the Park they left the vehicle and together went 
slowly through the deep green grass, and without pre- 
meditation or inquiry Bernicia began to explain the 
position of her brother, and their hopes and fears con- 
cerning him and the Cresswell estate. She did this 
fluently and with much feeling ; her beautiful lips 
pouted and quivered, her breast panted, and her eyes 
filled with tears as she told the story of Allan Cress- 
well’s treachery, and spoke of the brother who had 
been her companion, and who was now the last of a 
famous family. 

And for George Abney it was such a wonderful joy 
to be thus walking with her, to hear her words, — all of 
them for him alone, — to see her lovely face paling and 
reddening, her rosy lips parting and closing with emo- 
tion, her eyes lifted to his eyes, that he did not wish 
to speak ; neither did he wish Bernicia to cease speak- 
ing. At last she seemed conscious of this condition, 
she was silent a moment, and then said : 

“ I have told you enough, cousin, if you compre- 
hend, and if you do not comprehend, then I have told 
you too much.” 

What you wish is plain to me. I am to go to 
France. I am to explain to your brother Harry all 
that you have explained to me. In short, cousin, you 
rely on me to induce Harry to return to his country, 
and make submission for his life and estate to the 
king. I am most willingly your servant in this matter. 


THERE ARE SO MANY WAYS OF LOVING. 65 

The French packet leaves on Tuesday next. I will 
sail in her.” 

“ My dear cousin ! ” and with the words Bernicia 
gave him her hand. 

He retained it in a firm clasp, answering : “ Will 
you not say, my dear George ? ” 

“ La, cousin ! the word is insignificant. Both mean 
the same person.” 

“ Then oblige me. To hear my name from your 
lips ! Oh, Bernicia, I ask no greater joy.” 

“ Faith ! I know better. When I have made you so 
happy you will want something more ; you will indeed) 
dear George.” 

He stood still to listen, apprehending by some fine 
soul instinct the delicious syllable, and Bernicia said 
the word most charmingly, dropping her voice and 
lifting, her eyes, and suffering her hand to lie within 
her cousin’s hand. But it was but a momentary com- 
plaisance. Her next movement was to withdraw it, 
and as she took a step onward to say : 

“ I am disappointed. You have made me pay for 
your kindness. ’Tis a very merchant-like bargain.” 

“ There is no bargaining in true love, Bernicia, and 
you know well that I have loved you since the moment 
I first saw you.” 

“ La, sir ! I am no diviner. And the thing was 
never prophesied to me. Nor have you until this 
moment said the word ‘ love ’ in my hearing.” 

“ Because the word ‘ love ’ is too small. I want a 
new word coined to express my adoration. Find me 
one that will mean death to all other pleasures, that 
will mean delight to the pitch of paining. Oh, Ber- 
nicia ! you may freely take whatever service I can 


66 


BERNICIA. 


render you, for I have already given you my whole 
heart.” 

“ Alas, George ! I have more than I can do to take 
care of my own heart. What nonsense then to charge 
myself with yours.” 

“ Exchange with me ?” 

“ For value received ! Can you not get beyond 
such a business standard, cousin ?” 

“You are ever on the watch to trip me in my words. 
Bernicia, be more pitiful. Have you never been in 
love ! ” 

“ Never ! I thank my stars for not ruling me in such 
a house of folly. What is love like ? How does it 
feel ? When is one liable to an attack ? At the full o’ 
the moon ? or at the change ? ” 

“ To be in love, Bernicia, is to be possessed. My 
love for you is my life. I draw not a breath without 
it. It beats with my heart. It thinks with my brain. 
It works with my hands. If you smile, I am in the 
sunshine. If you are indifferent, every source of my 
being is in a frost. Bernicia ! Bernicia ! I love you 
so, I love you so entirely, that I know not if I live or 
die but as your favour leads me.” 

“Truly, George, your talents lie in making what 
you speak to be felt.” 

“ Can I hope so much ? Will you indeed give me 
a little love ? Just a little to hope upon ? ” 

“ No, indeed, sir ! 'T would be like giving a mort- 
gage on my heart. But if it please all gracious powers, 
I will keep myself free from such observations.” 

However, she made this denial with a smiling grace 
that no young man burning toward the meridian of 
his affection could accept. Perhaps, indeed, she only 


THERE ARE SO MANY WAYS OF LOVING. 67 

made it for the pleasure of having George woo her 
again, with still more impetuosity and fervour. For 
though her proud little heart melted like wax in the 
heat of her lover’s pleading, she did not seem to dis- 
like the ardours she was tempting and daring with 
such bewitching advances and retreats. 

As they turned toward the carriage they met Tarset 
coming toward them. She looked displeased, and 
said crossly: “You take advantage. Miss Bernicia. 
You said ‘ a few yards and a few minutes on the 
grass.’ Miss Forester and a couple of beaux have 
just passed, and they looked your way and laughed, 
and no doubt said this and that and more to it. You 
shouldn’t do so.” 

“ I like to do so, Tarset.” 

“And I think, Mr. Abney, you had better let Miss 
Cresswell say ‘ Good-morning ’ now. She will be 
set-to for an answer when Lady Pomfret asks her 
a few questions.” 

Bernicia laughed, with a pretty toss of her head, as 
she answered : “ Do not worry, Tarset. I can find 
plenty of stepping-stones in every stream that crosses 
my path. Now, good-morning, sir,” she said, with 
a courtesy, as she turned again to George. 

“ But, Bernicia, we have not yet arranged for the 
future. When shall I see you ? Where ? We cannot 
part until we ” 

“ Have a little forbearance, sir. I will send you 
a word.” 

“ But before Tuesday — I mean before Sunday.” 

“ It is now Friday.” 

“To-morrow, Bernicia. Say to-morrow.” 

“ Let me see,” and Bernicia began to count upon 


68 


BERNICIA. 


her fingers her many engagements, smiling all the 
time with a ravishing coquetry, and keeping George’s 
eyes fixed on her by the witchery of her own. Let 
me see : there is Lady Russell’s dance to-night, and 
the Verskovi’s auction in the morning, and in the 
evening Fanny has a dinner and a card party.” 

“Miss Bernicia,” cried Tarset, “you must say 
good-by at once and be done with it.” 

Thus the lovers gained nothing by a delay beyond 
the ripe moment of parting ; for in love, as in all 
other good things, what is over loses its glory or its 
savour. They said “ Farewell ” in a hurry, with a 
feeling of something incomplete, and with common- 
places instead of those few perfect monosyllables 
which are so sweetly illustrated by the hands and the 
eyes. 

However, Bernicia kept George in sight for some 
time, and his well- sustained gravity and lack of all 
haste, amid the hurrying, clamorous throng, gave him 
great distinction. She thought he would be sure to 
turn frequently and look back toward her, but after 
his adieu he never cast one glance behind. This was 
an unusual attitude for a lover, and she was much 
impressed by it. 

It was a silent and irresponsive ride home, for 
Bernicia was thinking of her sister Fanny, and with 
some trepidation. Up to this hour she had pleased 
herself with the idea of Fanny’s astonishment and 
satisfaction. But when she thought of the confession 
of her success still to be made, doubts and fears invaded 
her breast. “ Fanny will say I ought to have consulted 
her before taking the advice of a servant who knows 
nothing of London life. And perhaps I ought,” was her 


THERE ARE SO MANY WAYS OF LOVING. 69 


private comment on this supposition. “ She will say, 
too, that I have been selfish in not giving her an oppor- 
tunity to help in any plan for Harry’s relief. And 
I should not wonder if I have. I did not intend to 
be so, but then thoughtless selfishness is a pretty bad 
variety of that kind of meanness. And when all else is 
said, she will assure me I have behaved unfashionably, 
or perhaps even unwomanly, and give me in anticipa- 
tion all the ill-natured things likely to be said. It is 
not my fault, anyhow. George ought to have con- 
sidered these things, or Tarset, or somebody. Perhaps 
I ought to have considered tliem myself, and I am 
sure if I had thought one minute and a half on the 
subject, the second minute would have been fatal to 
the whole plan. But the thing is done, and if Fanny 
says too much, I am not without a tongue. Faith ! 
I can take up the racket and return the ball to her.” 

She had come to this conclusion as the carriage 
entered the wide gates of the Pomfret mansion, and 
she went into her sister’s presence with a little affecta- 
tion of childish delight. 

“ Oh, Fanny ! ” she cried, “ I have had the sweetest 
time in church and the loveliest drive in the Park you 
can imagine.” 

“ I should hope so, miss, for you have kept me 
waiting upon you. I am more angry with you than 
I can say, for you knew well I had an engagement 
with Lady Waltham.” 

“ I am sorry enough, sister.” 

“And pray who was with you in the Park? For 
I will wager ten crowns you had company in the love- 
liest of drives. Oh, miss ! I am not to be fooled, 
I assure you. Was it Lord Rashleigh ? ” 


70 


BERNICIA. 


“Ask me to-morrow, Fanny. You are not in 
a humour to listen to anything patiently at this hour.” 

“What a saucy chit you are grown! Tell me 
plainly who was in your company.” 

“ Tarset.” 

“ Tar set! ” 

“ And Cousin George Abney.” 

“ Cousin George Abney ! Pray why so much cousin- 
ship ? I do not think he has a drop of claim to it.” 

“ Indeed, you will have to put up with the ‘ cousin- 
ship,’ Fanny. His father married a cousin of our 
grandmother. It is a clear case. And I can assure 
you Uncle William is uncle to both George and 
Claire — more truly uncle than he is to either you 
or me.” 

“ Where did you meet the man ? You told me you 
were going to St. Paul’s for the morning service.” 

“ And I say truly that I met Cousin George as I 
came out of St. Paul’s. He said to me : ‘You have 
a coach, I see. Let us take a drive in St. James’s 
Park.’ ” 

“ A vulgar tradesman in a cloth suit ! And in my 
coach ! ” 

“ Oh, the nobility have their vulgarity, too, I assure 
you ! Gold lace and velvet are nothing. I have seen 
asses in embroidered trappings. And as for your 
coach, I cry your pardon for using it at all. I am no 
better than my ancestors, and my mother was a 
Bouverie, the daughter of a vulgar tradesman.” 

“ Such ideas ! I wonder how you came by them.” 

“ Some I was born with ; I have picked up others 
here and there and everywhere, as I went along.” 

“ I would like to know what George Abney was 


THERE ARE SO MANY WAYS OF LOVING. 7 1 

doing at St. Paul’s. Fetter Lane Meetinghouse 
would have been more in his way.” 

“ Ask him what he was doing. I’ll warrant he will 
tell you.” 

“Bernicia, you have treated me very badly this 
morning.” 

“ As I said before, I am sorry enough. Lay it to 
my years. A fine spring morning, a fine coach and 
four horses, a handsome young man, and your woman 
at hand to play propriety for you, in what country 
does the girl live, Fanny, who could have said ‘ No ’ ? ” 

“I will talk to you later. You have cut short my 
time at the present. Good-morning ! ” 

“ It was a very good morning, Fanny, until you 
spoiled it.” 

But when -Fanny left the room Bernicia laughed 
softly. “ I had the last word,” she thought, “ and 
now I will go to myself and consider things. 'Tis a 
mercy I have the opportunity to do so.” 

And the end of this consideration was not favourable 
to confidence. 

“ I have thought things out, Tarset,” she said, “ and 
I will not tell my sister a word about George and 
Harry. She will have so much to say and to fear that 
I shall be worried to death. We can keep our own 
secret, I suppose.” 

“But if it comes to harvest, you must confess, 
miss.” 

“ Faith, I have a plan to throw the confession upon 
George Abney. He is going to do the real business, 
and it is only fair he should himself bring the news 
of his meddling. He will not mind it a bit.” 

“ I should think he would.” 


72 


BERNICIA. 


No. He is my very humble servant. I shall 
write and bid him come here to-morrow at three 
o’clock. He must tell Fanny he is going into France, 
and that he will be delighted to carry any message or 
favour she may wish to send to Harry. I myself want 
to see George Abney again, and I can think of no 
better plan.” 

So the letter was written and delivered, and the next 
day at three o’clock George Abney was admitted to 
Lady Pomfret’s drawing-room. Not without purpose 
had Bernicia selected this hour. She knew her sister 
would be busy with her toilet. It was past time for 
the intrusion of morning callers, and it was too early 
for those who were engaged for the evening. She 
felt sure, therefore, that she would have her lover’s 
company without interruption. 

George had not obeyed her wishes, however, with- 
out some scruples. The nature of the man was to 
hate deception of any kind, and therefore he urged 
upon Bernicia the propriety of taking Lady Pomfret 
into their consultation. “ There is no cause why I 
should make your brother an aside interest when he 
is really the prime motive of my journey, Bernicia/’ 
he said. 

“Indeed, sir, there is,” she answered. “Fanny 
would not pardon me if she knew that I wrote you a 
letter ; that I sent you on a journey ; that, in short, I 
took from you the service of an acknowledged lover. 
Fanny is resolved that I shall marry Lord Rashleigh, 
and so is my clever brother-in-law. Do you not see, 
then, sir, how hemmed in to secrecy I am. And, 
faith, I begin to think you are very insensible to the 
honour I am doing you.” 


THERE ARE SO MANY WAYS OF LOVING. 73 

Then George accepted the situation. For there is 
a strange bias in the ethics of lovers ; a smile can 
throw very important questions out of all just per- 
spective, and a kiss can make things that are as if 
they were not. George at this hour saw events en- 
tirely through Bernicia’s eyes, and he continued to do 
so until Lady Pomfret entered the room. The swing 
and swish of her silk robe, the patter of her heeled 
shoes, and the sound of her voice prattling to her lap- 
dog advised them of her approach in sufficient time 
to preserve the attitude of their supposed acquaint- 
ance with each other. 

But Fanny was at first a little haughty. George 
had caused her to be delayed, to quarrel with her 
sister, to generally get her engagements into sixes and 
sevens on the previous day, and she had no pleasant 
remembrances of the young man to balance this feeling. 
Indeed, she knew so little of him that she was not 
entirely sure of his identity until Bernicia made him 
formally known to her. Then the tide of her liking 
began to turn at once. She recollected that she had 
called him a “ vulgar tradesman,” and she smiled to 
herself at the misnomer. No finer gentleman had 
ever bowed to her. And he had the wit to open the 
conversation at once with the subject that was so near 
and so interesting to her. 

“ I ask your pardon, cousin, for my intrusion,” he 
said. “ I hope, however, my reason may prove a suf- 
ficient excuse. I am going into France, where I hear 
Sir Harry Cresswell now is, and it will be much to my 
pleasure if I can be your servant in anything relating 
to his welfare, or, indeed, for lace, perfumes, fans, or 
any trifle you yourself may desire.” 


74 


BERNICIA. 


The giving of his title to the exiled nobleman 
opened Fanny’s heart wide to the sensible young man. 
She sat down by his side, and with rapid, feeling 
eloquence gave him directions for influencing her 
brother. “ Indeed, Cousin George,” she said in con- 
clusion, “you are a very godsend, and if you have 
the luck to bring our exile home, I shall feel myself 
forever bound to you.” With that she begged him to 
remain and eat dinner with them, and be introduced 
to Lord Pomfret, but George was far too prudent to 
push a new advantage to extremity. 

“ Then Bernicia shall play you a setting of Arnes,” 
she said. “ Sure you must know it, for ’tis one of 
Shakspere’s songs, a dainty morsel truly. Ah, here 
it is ! Come, sir, I have been told that you have a 
voice far beyond the common.” 

Then she drew Bernicia to the harpsichord, and 
spread out before her the deliciously tinkling, airy, 
fairy music of “ Where the Bee Sucks.” 

Now, music had no charms for Fanny Pomfret, she 
did not care for it in any kind, and when she heard 
George’s and Bernicia’s voices blending in the inter- 
chaining melody, she lifted her Blenheim spaniel. 
Mustache, and began to tell him, in Mother Goose 
fashion, how one little paw went to market and the 
other little paw stayed at home, etc. And she was 
quite as much interested in giving her dog this infor- 
mation as George and Bernicia were in setting each 
other love riddles with their eyes, so that no one per- 
ceived the advent of Lord Pomfret and his friend. 
Lord Rashleigh, until they stood within the door. Lord 
Pomfret looked curious and pleased ; Rashleigh — 
who had caught George’s love-lit face and Bernicia’s 


THERE ARE SO MANY WAYS OF LOVING. 7$ 

consenting voice and attitude — looked as a man looks 
when he meets his rival and knows it, and feels that 
it would be a delight to come to immediate issue 
with him. 

There was an instant apprehension of the intrusion. 
The music ceased in the middle of a crescendo, and 
Lady Pomfret rose with a pretty cry of welcome. She 
looked amazingly charming as she advanced, clasping 
Mustache in her left arm, and holding out her right 
hand to her husband. 

“ Oh ! ” she exclaimed, “ I have a delightful sur- 
prise for you, my dear lord. Here has come my 
cousin, George Abney, of whom you have heard so 
much. Is he like me ? Is he like Bernicia ? I do 
really think his eyes resemble those of my dear 
mother. That you must observe.” 

Of course Lord Pomfret observed it, or he said so, 
which answered the same purpose. And with this 
evident claim to his favour he pressed, though unavail- 
ingly, his hospitality upon his relative. Yet it was an 
interesting family picture, the handsome young citizen 
smiling at Bernicia, who leaned upon her sister, and 
lifted her eyes to Lord Pomfret that he might compare 
them with the eyes of her cousin, George Abney — a 
picture, however, which filled Lord Rashleigh with 
hatred and anger. 

“ I hope in my soul,” he muttered, “ Lady Pomfret 
will not introduce the fellow to me.” And when she 
did so, he was as rude as he had resolved to be. 
Sensitive as a woman, George felt this antagonism, 
but he bowed slightly with the air of one who submits 
to an insult for the sake of others, and Rashleigh 
turned on his heel. This incipient challenge was of 


76 


BERNICIA. 


such rapid passage as hardly to be noticeable, yet 
everyone felt its influence, and were glad when the 
door was closed between the two young men. 

“ Did you see the meeting, John ? did you see it ? " 
Lady Pomfret asked her husband when the even- 
ing was over, and Rashleigh had gone away in a 
thunderous temper, having lost a large sum of money 
at play through his own carelessness. “ Such hatred ! 
Such defiance ! Did you see it, John?” 

“I saw that they were instantly jealous of each 
other. But your cousin, George Abney, is a Dis- 
senter, and he will have * principles ' about duels. I 
do not think they will fight.” 

“ I tell you, they met like dogs on the street. They 
may not fight, but they are both ready to do so.” 

And Lady Pomfret laughed and ran into her sister’s 
bedroom to have her laugh out. “ Let me congratu- 
late you, Bernicia ! ” she cried. *‘Lord John thinks 
there will be a duel about you. That will set your 
fame flying. That will make the men run mad for 
you ! Tell me, are you smitten with our cousin’s 
beauty ? Beyond cavil, he is as handsome as Apollo. 
Do you love him ? And if so, pray how do you love 
him ? A little ? or a great deal ? or beyond every- 
thing ? ” 

And Bernicia answered with a sleepy smile, “ I 
have not yet asked myself, Fanny — there are so many 
ways of loving.” 


CHAPTER IV. 


A DRAWING-ROOM SERMON. 

What is happiness ? Generally speaking, it is 
gratified self-love. So Bernicia was not happy, for 
her self-love had been deeply wounded, and that by 
a person of whom Lady Pomfret would not permit 
her to speak. She therefore looked forward to Wed- 
nesday, anticipating some confidence and discussion 
with her relatives in Bloomsbury Square. But when 
Wednesday arrived she was inert, gloomy, and decid- 
edly cross. It was mid-afternoon when she reached 
the Bouverie mansion, and madame was taking her 
usual rest. 

But Claire met her on the threshold with more than 
ordinary delight ; her face was beaming, she was 
prettily dressed, and her voice had that vibrancy 
which is only imparted by real pleasure. Bernicia 
allowed herself to fall to a still lower pitch in the 
presence of such visible content, and without any con- 
scious feeling of the kind, she was offended by this 
want of sympathy with her own condition. She sub- 
mitted, however, to Claire’s mood, and walked silently 
upstairs at her side, listening to words of welcome 
and to affectionate platitudes. 

** I have been watching for you all morning, Ber- 
nicia,” she said. “I never was so anxious to see 
you, and you never were so late in coming. Are you 
sick, dear cousin ? ” 


77 


78 


BERNICIA. 


“ Indeed I am neither well nor sick. I have a 
megrim, a dolor, a feeling as if life had cold- 
shouldered me. Routs, balls, and plays are become 
a very weariness. I wish we could have a storm. 
I wither in this everyday, everyday sunshine ! " 

“I thought you loved the sunshine, Bernicia ?" 

“I do, over the hills and moors. But in these 
glaring noisy streets it is a very melancholy thing, 
I assure you." 

“You are not like yourself to-day, Bernicia. 
George went away so happy I thought surely you had 
given him reason for his happiness. And I do think 
a love affair with George must be a paradise on 
earth." 

“ I know not. I have a discontent with all things." 

“ And you have so much to make you glad ! Do 
not be ungrateful. God loves a grateful heart, 
Bernicia." 

“ I have reason to believe that my heart is altogether 
sinful and disagreeable to him." 

Claire looked at her wonderingly. Never before 
had she seen her cousin so gloomy and troubled. 
She had thrown herself upon the bed, and a sombre 
inertia seemed to invade her instantly. For a few 
minutes Claire said not a word. She sat down by 
Bernicia's side, and a tender soul instinct taught her 
to avoid anything like mockery or laughter ; yet as 
soon as silence became strained and painful she asked 
gently. 

“Who has been troubling your heart, Bernicia?" 

“ That man George Whitefield. I wish that I had 
never seen him. It was very unkind of Fanny to take 
me near him." 


A DRAWING-ROOM SERMON. 79 

** Then you were at Lady Huntington’s on Sabbath 
night ? ” 

“ F anny persuaded me to go there. But I assure you, 
I shall go no more to my Lady Huntington’s spiritual 
routs.” 

“ What said Mr. Whitefield ? ” 

“The most impolite things imaginable. I wonder 
not at Lady Suffolk’s impatience and offence. He 
spoke of my heart as sinful and vain and foolish, with 
much more to the same purport.” 

“ He meant not you in particular.” 

“Faith, I think he did ! He looked at me, and his 
words went through me like a sword. Those weary 
of lovers and races and plays may like this sensation 
for a change, but I will have no more of it.” 

“ Indeed, I think that those who listen to Mr. White- 
field are more in sincerity than desirous of a mere 
change.” 

“You will see. Lady Huntington will die, and 
then Mr. Whitefield will go out of fashion ; and the 
elect ladies will return to the common wicked world, 
and will love dress, and play basset, and go to Rane- 
lagh and the Rotunda again.” 

“ I thought you would like Mr. Whitefield. I am 
sorry you do not. Tell me about the service.” 

“ I will tell you this evening. I want to hear what 
Uncle William says, and I care not to go over the 
matter twice. I wish rather that you would order me 
a cup of balm or peppermint tea. I am strangely 
fluttered and restless. Tafset is very angry at Fanny 
for taking me to such a service. * As if there wasn’t 
bread enough and to spare in my Father’s house,’ she 
says ; ‘ my Father’s house’ meaning of course St. 


So 


BERNICIA. 


Paul’s or St. George’s. She put my prayer-book under 
my pillow, but it did me no good. I will have some 
balm tea, Claire, and then wash and refresh myself a 
little. I suppose you know that George has gone to 
France to see my brother Harry ? ” 

I asked George no questions. I was sure you 
would tell me all that you desired me to know.” 

“ Indeed I will keep nothing from you, Claire.” 
And then, as she drank her tea, she explained to Claire 
the circumstances which made it a most favourable 
time for Harry to ask a pardon. And I truly think 
he will return with George, and then if he falls not 
in love with you, Claire, I shall fall out of love with 
him.” 

‘‘You forget, Bernicia. I may yet have a lover.” 

“ Harry will drive all other lovers before him.” 

Claire smiled, but did not pursue the subject, and 
on entering the parlour they found William Bouverie 
and madame in an animated conversation about the 
proposed removal of the Rev. Mr. Romaine from his 
curacy of St. George’s parish. 

“ He has become a Methodist, I hear,” said Bou- 
verie, “and the church is now thronged with the 
common people, so that the regular sitters complain 
greatly of the crush, and of the damage done to the 
pew cushions and to their dignity.” 

“ What then hinders his removal ? ” said madame. 
“ The rector has the word in his own mouth.” 

“ The old Earl of Northampton hinders. He is one 
of the parishioners, and he is on the side of the Metho- 
dist curate. It is said in the coffee-houses that he 
spoke up bravely, and reminded the fashionable con- 
gregation that they bore the greater crush of a ball- 


A DRAWING-ROOM SERMON. 


8l 


room, or a racecourse, or a playhouse without incon- 
venience. But Romaine has been sitting at the feet of 
George Whitefield, and he is undoubtedly of a manly 
spirit in the things of God." 

Well, son William," answered madame, “ it is time 
someone spoke on the Lord’s side. I have been 
young and now I am old, but I never before saw the 
land so godless ; and atheism so rampant. We need 
more Butlers and Sherlocks." 

“ We need more Whitefields and Wesleys, mother. 
We need great preachers of righteousness, far more 
than arguers and apologists. No man will ever be 
saved by Butler and Sherlock, but thousands are 
being saved daily by the preaching of the Cross of 
Christ. I tell you there is something wonderful in 
this religious movement called Methodism. Where it 
will grow to, I know not ; but I was told to-day that 
Mr. Whitefield has had several interviews with the 
Prince of Wales, and that the prince is much moved 
by his entreaties. And in other ways the Word has 
a free course. There seems to be a thirst after 
righteousness in high places. Good Lady Huntington 
and the honourable women who " 

“ Good Lady Huntington ! " interrupted Bernicia. 
“ She has the family taste for doing things beyond 
others. Fanny says the whole Ferrers family have 
mad blood. It takes the form of brutality in Lord 
Ferrers, and of bigotry in Lady Huntington." 

“ My dear niece. Lady Huntington has been favoured 
with many evidences of good. I hear that George 
Whitefield — a man certainly approved of God — has 
become her chaplain, and that he is shaking sinners 
in high places.*' 


82 


BERNICIA. 


“ Bernicia was at Lady Huntington’s last Sabbath 
night,” said Claire. “ She can tell us if these things 
be so.” 

Madame was instantly interested. 

“ We will hear Bernicia,” she said. “ The little 
maid will stick to the truth. Were there so many 
there, and of such quality, as is reported, Bernicia ? 
And what kind of countenance has this man ? Come, 
child, you have a word I wish to listen to.” 

“ I went with Fanny,” answered Bernicia, blushing 
brightly at finding herself the centre of interest, “ and 
though we were an hour before the sermon, it is true 
we found the street full of coaches, and the stairways 
and parlours of Lady Huntington’s house crowded with 
a splendid throng of lords and ladies. You would 
have thought it was a rout, only that the people talked 
in a lower voice. And as Lady Huntington is always 
very attentive to newcomers, she brought Fanny and 
me to seats near a raised platform at the north end of 
the room. So while Fanny talked with the Countess 
of Chesterfield, I watched the company, and listened 
to their remarks.” 

“ And pray what heard you ? ” asked madame. 

“ Someone sitting near me said, ‘ That saint, our 
friend Chesterfield, was here last Sunday, and he gave 
me such an account of Mr. Whitefield that I am 
anxious to hear this apostolic person.’ He was, as 
you may perceive, grandmother, apologizing for being 
present, and laying the blame of his presence upon 
‘ that saint, our friend Chesterfield.’ ” 

“ And what was the reply ? ” 

“ I heard it not perfectly, but it concerned Lady 
Townshend, who was reported to have said ‘ she did 


A DRAWING-ROOM SERMON. 


83 


not go out to dinner this season, for fear she should 
be offered a Methodist pie.’ Then Lady Fanny 
Shirley entered, and Mrs. Howard whispered to a 
duchess on my left : ‘ Mr. Walpole thinks Lady Fanny 
is taking the way of Methodism to bestow the dregs 
of her beauty,’ and the duchess laughed softly and 
answered ‘ Dear Mr-. Walpole ! He is always so 
witty.’ Such was the conversation of the saints wait- 
ing for the apostolic Mr. Whitefield. I dare say you 
are tired of it, grandmother.” 

“ Go on, child.” 

“ Indeed, I heard but one other remark worth the 
telling : Miss Betty Belhurst simpered to Lady Town- 
shend, ‘ I hear it is reported that Mr. Whitefield will 
recant all his errors publicly, and make his obedience 
to his bishop.’ And Lady Townshend looked at her 
scornfully, and spoke up as sharp and hot as mustard 
seed, ‘ No, miss, he will not recant ; he will only cant! ’ 
For nothing is more strange than Lady Townshend’s 
liking and hating of Mr. Whitefield. She adores him 
one hour, and detests him the next. Fanny says : ‘ She 
is that way mad,’ and in faith, I think I could be mad 
in the same direction ! ” 

“ But this conversation went not on while Mr. 
Whitefield was preaching ? ” asked Bouverie. 

“ Had you ever heard Mr. Whitefield preach, 
uncle,” answered Bernicia, “ you would not imagine 
such a thing could ever come to pass. As soon as the 
velvet curtains parted and he walked forward to the 
front of the platform, there was a stillness so sudden 
and so perfect, that the flutter of a ribbon would have 
made you start.” 

“ Is he handsome ? Has he presence ? Does he 


84 


BERNICIA. 


look like one who has the divine call and seal ? ” 
asked madame. 

Indeed he has a graceful, beautiful presence, a 
beaming countenance, and a wondrously tuneful voice. 
And his silk gown and spotless bands might have 
served an archbishop. Oh, a very proper and be- 
speaking person, I can assure you ! ” 

“ And how did he order the service ? ” asked 
Bouverie. Was it in the manner of the Church of 
England, with prayers and confessions ? ” 

“ There was no question of such service. It was 
evident he came to preach about Jesus Christ, and he 
struck that key at once. Christ was his first thought, 
and he had no second. * Come away ! ’ he cried. 
‘ Come away out of all your doubts and desirings ! 
Come away to the love of God in Christ Jesus ! He 
will cause the lame to walk, and he will carry those 
who cannot go.’ It was like the entreaty of an angel 
from heaven ! ” and Bernicia covered her face with 
her hands and was visibly affected at the memory. 
After a moment’s silence she said softly, “ I remember 
not the precise words, but they went through me with 
such sweet compelling power, that I am sure had 
the Christ been visibly present I had gone to his feet 
to weep there. But as Mr. Whitefield continued 
speaking his voice changed, and I was frightened 
at what he said, though he forced me to look at 
him as he asked, ‘ Oh, heart ! heart ! what art thou ? 
the vainest, foolishest, wickedest thing in nature. 
Yet Jesus asks for thee. Jesus died for thee. Oh, 
wonderful love ! Oh, adorable love ! ’ And of 
course I was angry that he should talk to me 
especially.” 


A DRAWING-ROOM SERMON. 85 

“ Nay,” said madame, “ that was but the arrow 
conscience sent.” 

“That, or this, I tried not to heed his words, but 
rather to watch how others heeded them. So far I 
went in such intent, as to imagine how I would imitate 
this one, and that one, and perhaps also the preacher 
himself. Suddenly he paused and said in a voice that 
went to my inmost heart : ‘ Beware of premeditated 
sins. If you do wrong inadvertently, or passionately, or 
carelessly, you may dare to say, “ Father, forgive me ! ” 
But when you plan where you will sin, and how you 
will sin, you wantonly insult the love and majesty of 
God ; and you may not presume to come into his holy 
and awful presence.* I was sick with fear and 
wonder, for how could he discover my very thoughts ? 
I liked it not. I was glad when there was a great sigh 
and a sudden silence, and the people began to move.” 

“ I wish that I had been there,” said Claire. “ And 
pray tell us what took place after the sermon ? ” 

“ Mr. Whitefield talked to Lord Bolingbroke, who 
appeared to be pleased and very civil ; indeed I heard 
him tell the preacher that he had ‘ done the attributes 
of the Almighty great justice.’ Lord Chesterfield was 
also vastly polite, but it would have made you admire 
and wonder to see Pulteney — the great Earl of Bath — 
laying aside his politics and singing a hymn from the 
same book with Lady Chesterfield. Can you imagine 
it ? Young Lord Dartmouth was there ; and Sir 
Charles Hotham and Lady Gertrude Hotham, and 
many more of the primest quality. They stood talk- 
ing softly in little groups ; they wiped their eyes ; 
they vowed it was all delightfully tender ; but Fanny 
whispered to me : ‘ They will be at their cards and 


86 . 


BERNICIA. 


their vanities as naturally as ever to-morrow morn- 

ing. 

“Fanny said more than she knew," interrupted 
madame. “ Fanny Pomfret is not one of the Lord’s 
privy councillors. If George Whitefield has sown 
good seed, such seed will never die." 

“ Indeed, mother," said William Bouverie, “ there is , 
hope for every soul that was granted such a blessed 
opportunity." 

“ Many are called, few are chosen, son William," 
madame answered, with a judicial aspect. 

“ We must believe, mother, that all who heard such 
gracious words will answer them. Do you think there 
was one in that company who would have dared to 
stand up and say, I have no Saviour ? " 

Madame did not reply, and Bernicia continued : 

“ The unhappy Lady Marlborough spoke for many 
besides herself, no doubt. I was at her side when Mr. 
Whitefield addressed her very feelingly about her soul, 
and she answered politely : ‘ Sir, your concern for my 
religious improvement is very obliging, and God knows 
we all need mending, and none more so than myself ; 

but, sir ’ Then she ceased speaking and Mr. White- 

field asked, ‘ But what ? ’ So she went on half-crying, 
‘We women of wit and beauty and quality cannot bear 
such humiliating truths ; they hurt our pride ; yet as 
you say, sir, we must all die and converse with earth 
and worms.’ She was pale and tearful, and her hands 
were in such a tremble she could hardly fasten her 
cloak ; but in the next minute she was talking to 
Fanny about Lady Sarah Spencer’s rout. And so, you 
see, it is as God pleases, after all. As for me, I will 
go no more to hear such sermons. Tarset said truly, 


A DRAWI.NG-ROOM SERMON. 87 

I was right served for running after false shepherds, 
when the door of my own fold stood open,” 

“ Has Tarset heard Mr. Whitefield preach ? ” asked 
Claire. 

“ Tarset prides herself upon being a faithful Church- 
woman, and she has very strong opinions about field 
preaching. She will not hear a word in Mr. White- 
field’s favour. It is enough for her that he is disobey- 
ing his bishop and preaching out of a consecrated 
building. Last Sunday I offered her a book about 
him, and she would not touch it. She said‘ she never 
read anything but her Bible and prayer-book ; or on 
Sundays, maybe, a bit out of Fox’s Book of Martyrs ; 
and she thought she had gone through life none so 
badly.’ ” 

“ Did Mr. Whitefield speak to you, Bernicia ? ” 
asked madame. 

No. I was afraid of him. And let me tell you, 
Mr. Whitefield talking and Mr. Whitefield preaching 
are very different men. The talking man is not extra- 
ordinary, the preaching man is an apostle, a most 
seraphic creature indeed.” 

“ And what opinion had your sister Fanny ? ” 

“She was far from pleased, grandmother. Fanny 
thought his allusions to the nobility very impertinent ; 
Mr. Whitefield would have shaken hands with Fanny, 
but she made him a courtesy and withdrew herself.” 

“ But why did she go at all, if she intended only 
offence ?” 

“ You must know that we went there, not to hear 
Mr. Whitefield, but to please Lady Chesterfield, who 
is only to be won on her Methodist side. And just 
now her favour is very necessary to us. For this reason 


88 


BERNICIA. 


Fanny will go again, and she thinks it no bad enter- 
tainment for a Sunday night, if you only keep posses- 
sion of yourself. As for me, I would rather stay with 
Tarset and talk about Cresswell ; or even read 
romances to Lord Pomfret ; for it is much to Fanny’s 
credit that she likes not cards in her house on 
Sunday.” 

For an hour they talked on this subject, and Ber- 
nicia listened with the air of one who listens against 
her will. She was distrait ; she said she had a head- 
ache, that she had not slept well lately, nor eaten, nor 
been like herself, and that Fanny thought she required 
a change of air. “ So if Lord Pomfret can leave Lon- 
don,” she added, “ we are going into the country, and 
will give the vanities, the fops, and the beauties rest 
• for a month or two.” She laughed a little at the idea, 
but the laugh was without mirth ; and rising, she con- 
tinued, Thank Heaven, I am suddenly sleepy ! I beg 
you to excuse my company longer.” 

Now, there was in each heart a conviction that Ber- 
nicia was troubled as Felix was troubled, but only 
madame dared to touch the wounded soul. And this 
she did very tenderly, stroking the girl’s hair and 
drawing her face doAvnward, as she whispered, in 
answer to Bernicia’s “Good-night, grandmother,” 
“ Child, child, Christ is waiting ! Open the door 
unto him ! ” 

The thought haunted Bernicia all through the night. 
Once she lifted her head from the pillow, and put her 
bare feet to the floor, and felt constrained to go to 
the door of the room. There was no one there. Her 
eyes were not opened. She did not see, as Colonel 
Gardiner had seen, the Crucified One with outstretched 


A DRAWING-ROOM SERMON. 89 

arms and eyes of infinite pity entreating her. The 
long dark corridors were silent and empty, and sob- 
bing bitterly she went back to her bed ; being mis- 
erable and fearful, and also angry at her misery 
and fear. 

In the morning she was glad to escape from the 
society of Claire. Her calm satisfaction and her 
placid happiness was irritating. She wondered how 
it was that Claire had no regrets for her present life, 
and no fears for her future one. Claire, however, 
had not heard Mr. Whitefield preach, and Bernicia 
determined to persuade Fanny to take her to Lady 
Huntington’s next service. “ I own I should be 
glad to see her complacency shaken a little,” she 
thought. 

In this mood she met Lady Pomfret, whose first 
words were : “ Why, Bernicia, you look as if you had 
an ague ! No more lace, I see.” 

“ I am sure grandmother had not one lace thought. 
Her talk was of religion and the clergy. She had no 
leanings to this world and its vanities.” 

“ Lord Rashleigh will be here in an hour.” 

“ Pray what does that signify ? ” 

“ That you may be Lady Rashleigh before Christ- 
mas if you play your cards well.” 

“ Let someone win Lord Rashleigh who wants him. 
I will play them a losing game.” 

‘‘ What objections have you to him ! ” 

Grammercy ! The man is a fool. He sells his 
life for a pack of cards and a dice box.” 

“ He is of a most ancient family.” 

“ I wish that the Flood had washed it away — root 
and branch.” 


90 


BERNICIA. 


When you first met Lord Raslileigh, you appeared 
to be well inclined to him.” 

“ Tis a long time since I first met him. He has 
delayed too much. There never is a lucky hour after 
the first opportunity. He missed it.” 

“ You are contradictious and disagreeable, Bernicia.” 

I can no more help it, Fanny, than I can change 
my destiny.” 

“ You have not been yourself since you heard Mr. 
Whitefield preach.” 

“ I think Mr. Whitefield’s opinions will be the 
death of me.” 

“ The low, base fellow ! As for my Lady Dowager 
Hypocrite, I have no patience with the creature. 
She stands above us only on Mr. Whitefield’s 
shoulders. And her motives are easily to be seen. 
She has no beauty to make men run after her ; dancing 
gives her a vertigo ; she always loses at cards ; and 
so, to make herself of some account in the world, she 
has taken to piety and preachings. Did you really 
hear any unusual word from Mr. Whitefield ? He is, 
to be sure, very handsome and graceful, but never 
trust me, if these advantages are not the whole of this 
‘ heavenly-minded ’ person’s excellencies.” 

“ We are no happier for talking of Mr. Whitefield. 
I wish that you would take Claire Abney with you 
next Sunday. I confess that it would please me if he 
made her tremble a little.” 

Tremble ! Let me assure you it is most unneces- 
sary. Mrs. Russell told me this morning that the 
great Bishop Wilson, being asked about the terrors of 
Mr. Whitefield’s hearers, said, ‘ Men and women could 
love God without being terrified of him, and that it 


A DRAWING-ROOM SERMON. 


91 


was only devils who believed and trembled.’ Depend 
upon 'it Mr. Whitefield’s doctrines are very heretical 
and abominable.” 

“ I am not a good woman, Fanny. I wish I were.” 

“ You are very suitable to the station in life in 
which it has pleased God to place you. Could you 
be content to go to heaven at once ? Do not look up 
and down, and east and west, and north and south 
about it. Answer me, could you be content to go to 
heaven at once ? ” 

“Not immediately, Fanny. Perhaps on my con- 
science, not very heartily.” 

“ You would wish a little more of this world first ? ” 

“ I may say so much, truly.” 

“ Then you must look about you. Will you credit 
me Vhen I say that Allan Cresswell was here last 
night, and that he so worked on Lord Pomfret that 
he promised to bring him to the king without delay ? ” 

“ What is to be done ? We have no word yet from 
Harry.” 

“ I have told Lord Pomfret what is not to be done. 
The fellow had persuaded him that Cresswell was 
naught but barren moors, and the castle falling away, 
and that a thousand pounds would be a full portion 
for me, and John is needing money, — he always is 
needing money, — and he took the bait, and the matter 
had been settled but that my signature was wanting 
to it.” 

“ And mine also. Did the wretch think I would 
sell my birthright in Cresswell for all the gold in 
England ? ” 

“ He thought your signature would follow mine, 
that you would be moved as Lord Pomfret and I 


92 


BERNICIA. 


wished you, that, in fact, a thousand pounds in hand 
would be more to you than all Cresswell in futurity.” 

What did you say to Lord Pomfret ?” 

“ ’Tis no matter what I said. In the end my 
words were very convincing to him.” 

“ Was he angry ? ” 

“ He had a fit of temper. While it lasted he had a 
busy time with it. But it did not last long, for the 
dispute led him naturally to the Stuarts, and the 
Stuarts to the king, and the king to the devil, and the 
last party put him in the wrong. Then I had only to 
show him that we had truth on our side. ’Tis a pity 
that truth can only be on one side, is it not, Bernicia ? ” 
“ Faith ! I think not. I do not wish my enemies 
to be as far right as myself. What said Lord John, 
then ? ” 

“ Something about ‘ a little brimstone wife.’ And 
when John gets to calling names, he is lost. I fell 
into a temper, and I am always handsome when I am 
in a temper. So John saw that he was in the wrong, 
and he gave up the whole business, crust and crumb. 
And it is a pleasure to me this morning to think of 
Allan Cresswell kicking his heels at the place ap- 
pointed. Let him wear his hopes threadbare in 
watching and waiting. By the Lord Harry, it is good 
enough for the traitor ! ” 

. “ What an obliging husband you have, Fanny ! ” 

“ I trust I know that much, without a lesson on it. 
Yet I would like to do something to show that I value 
his kindness, and it came into my head that if you 

would marry Lord Rashleigh ■” 

“ I could not ! I could not ! Indeed, I could not ! ” 
“ Then why do you go out with him ? Why do you 


A DRAWING-ROOM SERMON. 


93 


see him ? Why do you sing to him ? Why do you 
dance with him ? Do you ever intend to be less cruel ? 
All these questions the world is asking.” 

I do not pretend to be able to answer the world.” 

“ Sh-h ! Here he comes ! I know the clatter of his 
sword.” 

” Then do not leave me ! If you do, I will treat 
him very ill.” 

“ Never fear ; I will play propriety.” 

But Rashleigh had scarcely paid his respects when 
Mrs. Willoughby and her two daughters entered. 
They had some close confidence with Lady Pomfret, 
and, in a few minutes, Bernicia was left standing by 
an open window with her lover. 

“ I see that you are dressed for the street,” he said. 

“ I have just come from the street.” Then, turning to 
Jackanapes, she said : ^‘Go and tell Tarset I want her.” 

As she spoke she was removing her scarf and bon- 
net, and when Tarset answered her summons, she bid 
her take them to the dressing-room, adding : “ When 
you have done so, bring me here a glass of cinnamon 
water, for I am strangely faint this morning. Will 
you also have a glass ? ” she asked of Lord Rashleigh ; 
“ you know the great dean says it is a sovereign 
remedy for an indigestion.” 

I do not trust the dean’s remedy, any more than I 
trust the bishop’s,” replied Rashleigh. Swift stands 
by cinnamon water, and Berkeley swears that tar 
water will cure every mortal ill. Only yesterday I 
asked my apothecary in Cheapside if he sold much 
tar water, and he answered : ‘ I sell nothing else.’ 
Tar water ! I trust I know how to drink more 
cleanly ! ” 


94 


BERNICIA. 


“ I was speaking of cinnamon water, my lord/' 

I entreat a thousand pardons for speaking of the 
spice and the tar together. Are you indeed out of 
health ? I am most sorry. Is there anything I can 
do to pleasure you ? ” 

“ Why, yes. But would you do it ? ” 

“ On my life, yes ! What do you desire ? ” 

“ I have a cousin, a very wretch. If you would 
only run him twice through the body with your 
sword.” 

“ Twould be murder.” 

“ Challenge him, and make it honourable murder.” 

“ The man is unknown to me — has not wronged me. 
You are joking ? ” 

“ Far from it. The man has it in his mind to rob 
us of house and land. I wish that he was hanged ! 
I wish I were a man, that I might force quittance at 
a sword’s point ! ” 

“ Give me a right to do so, and I will lift your quar- 
rel. Marry me to-day, and I will challenge him to- 
morrow.” 

” You would turn me into a bargain — so much for 
so much ? ” 

“ Is not everything in life so much for so much ? ” 

I see that we shall not come to terms ; and, in- 
deed, I am very little in earnest.” 

“ But I am very much in earnest.” 

“ 'Tis a pity of it ! Let us talk of other things. 
Do you remember the first night we met ? ” 

“ 'Tis not in my power to forget it.” 

‘‘You spoke of having heard Mr. Whitefield preach.” 

“I was then full of Mr. Whitefield.” 

“ Have you heard him since that time ?” 


A DRAWING-ROOM SERMON. 


95 


“ I have made a point of not hearing him. My 
friend, young Rotherham, says ‘he alv/ays leaves a 
thorn behind a sermon, some word that rankles and 
rankles.’ 'Tis a point of comfort to avoid such 
words.” 

“ I wish that you would go to Moorfields and hear 
Mr. Whitefield preach.” 

“ I must rise at midnight, then. I will go to Lady 
Huntington’s again, if it will please you.” 

“ That will not satisfy me. I have heard Mr. 
Whitefleld preach to sinners like ourselves. I want 
to know what he says to the common herd. Go 
to Moorfields for me. Find out how Mr. Whitefield 
looks there ; what he says, how he says it ; what kind 
of people listen to him, and how they take the dreadful 
things he is sure to say.” 

“ I will go at the first opportunity ; though I must 
own I am most indisposed that way.” 

“ I thought you admired the preacher ?” 

“ A man may change his opinions.” 

“ Yes, if he be a shuttlecock of a man, tossed by 
every hand and driven by every wind. In plain truth, 
will you go for me ? ” 

“In plain truth, I will go.” 

“ I am, then, your humble servant for the courtesy. 
Let us now see what new slander is on. Mrs. Wil- 
loughby is all chastity and odour, but she makes no 
more of a woman’s character than a mower does of 
the grass. Oh ! ” she cried, with a contemptuous 
shrug, “ oh, the pious friendships of the female sex ! ” 

This arrangement with Lord Rashleigh did Bernicia 
more good than the cinnamon water she sipped as she 
made it. She was really anxious to discover if George 


96 


BERNICIA. 


Whitefield preached the same doctrines to princes and 
to beggars ; if he spoke as eloquently in the fields as 
in the drawing-room ; if the souls of those clothed in 
rags and those clothed in purple and fine linen were 
of equal value in his sight ; in short, whether the 
Gospel preached in Park Street and the Gospel 
preached in Moorfields was the same Gospel. If 
there was any shortcoming in Whitefield in this re- 
spect, she felt certain his words would no longer 
trouble her. She would assure her heart they were 
only clever words, and the sermon under which she 
had trembled merely a Sabbath day tragedy. 


CHAPTER V. 


Harry’s return. 

It was now June, but Lady Pomfret still lingered in 
town. She said she had an ailing, and required her 
London physician ; that her mantua-maker had not 
finished her new negligi, and that it was impossible 
for her to go to the country without it. But the real 
cause of her delay was her brother. She wished to 
be in London when he arrived, and she regarded the 
absence of the gay world as extremely favourable. 
Lady Chesterfield and Mrs. Greenfield — from whose 
influence she hoped most — were both with the court ; 
the general busybodies were scattered, and the court 
itself in unusual good temper over the peace of Aix- 
la-Chapelle, the preliminaries to which had already 
been signed. As one of the terms of this peace was 
an absolute renouncement of the claims of the Stuarts 
by all the great European powers, mere individual 
partisanship was become a thing too small for state 
notice, and Lady Pomfret rightly conceived that the 
very nick of time had come for the king’s clemency, 
if only Harry was fortunate enough to catch it. 

Her “ ailing ” was fortunately not so severe as to 
hinder her usual gaieties, and there were yet balls 
and operas, water excursions, and musical parties to 
keep her dressing. But Bernicia showed the anxiety 
Lady Pomfret only felt. She was angry at George 
and also at Harry. She thought they might have 


97 


98 


BERNICIA. 


sent a letter. She was sure they might have been 
in London ; a particle of common sense would have 
taught both of them that it was now neck or nothing 
with Harry’s cause. Such was her conversation with 
her sister and with Tarset, though perhaps if the 
spring of it had been analyzed, this overflow called 
“ Harry ” would have been found to contain many 
other elements. 

One evening Lady Pomfret had a dinner party, and 
Bernicia was talking merrily with Mr. Horace Wal- 
pole. This gentleman had the whim of reproaching 
the world for doing nothing, and was indulging it to 
his new auditor : 

“ The wonderful is worn out. Miss Cresswell,” he 
said, as]he stroked his ruffles and looked upward ; “ we 
have no elopements, and no plots, and the sun and 
the moon go on as they always do, and we are in such 
a state of sameness that I wonder at the change of 
of the seasons.” 

There is the new peace, Mr. Walpole,” answered 
Bernicia, “and His Grace of Newcastle’s antics about 
it. I have heard that he will certainly carry his 
chairs and tables with him into Hanover, not believing 
that they exist anywhere out of England. And again, 
there are a thousand wagers that he will fall danger- 
ously ill, rather than go at all. I am sure, Mr. Wal- 
pole, the ‘ peace ’ is new and very amusing.” 

“ It might be, if it progressed with more rapidity. 
But we make peace as slowly as we make war. So I, 
who would wish to ride on the whirlwind, am com- 
pelled to endure the yawns of the age. Were you at the 
Stanhope ball ? And when will you honour my little 
villa ? It is rather a pretty place, I assure you.” 


Harry’s return. 


99 


Indeed, sir, I have heard as much.” 

“ Have you seen the town and all its wonders ? ” 

“ I am weary of the town and all its wonders.” 

“And of the great men, who think the age will be 
called after them ? ” 

“ I have seen them all — from the king to Mr. White- 
field.” 

“ Mr. Whitefield, indeed ! A low, presumptuous 
fellow ! He has turned the world upside down, only 
because it is such a silly world.” 

“I think Mr. Whitefield is almost a prophet, sir.” 

“ He may have the ignorance of one, but he is 
without the inspiration.” 

“ Indeed, I think he is a miracle of nature. He has 
powers that dart from earth to heaven in a moment. 
If you could ride on Mr. Whitefield’s whirlwind, it 
might be better than enduring the yawns of the age.” 

“Very good. Miss Cresswell. Shall we dance? 
Or will you play brag ? Or walk in the garden until 
the tables are laid ? Show me how to be civil enough 
to you.” 

“ We will sit here by the window, and you shall tell 
me of your travels.” 

“ Pray ask my pardon for setting me on such a 
theme. I am now mad about England, and have for- 
sworn all travelling in foreign lands. Do you know, 
Mr. Sterne thinks King David’s desire for his enemies 
to be made ‘ like unto a wheel ’ was a bitter sarcasm 
against the spirit of travelling, which the Jewish 
monarch foresaw would haunt the children of men in 
the latter days — the most severe imprecation he could 
think of, against those who hated him ; as if he had 
said, I wish them no worse luck than to be always 


lOO 


BERNICIA. 


rolling about, always in motion, therefore always 
miserable and unquiet.” 

Bernicia laughed, and Mr. Walpole laughed, and 
there was a general movement toward the adjoining 
parlours. Some of the ladies sat down to whist or 
silver faro, and some began to choose partners for a 
dance. The murmur of conversation mingled with 
the tuning of violins, the tapping of heels, and the 
movement of chairs upon the polished floor, and amid 
this pleasant confusion Lord Pomfret and a few 
gentlemen slipped away to an inner room, where they 
could indulge their passion for quinze and deep 
basset without fear of molestation. But Bernicia sat 
with Mr. Walpole at the open window, and Lord 
Rashleigh watched them, and fretted himself into 
a fever of jealousy. Suddenly Jackanapes touched 
Bernicia, and she turned with a smile and asked : 

“ What do you want, sirrah ? ” 

“ There is someone to see Miss Cresswell.” 

But even while Jackanapes was speaking, the door 
opened and a young man entered the room. Quick 
as a thought Bernicia saw him. ‘^Ten thousand 
pardons, Mr. Walpole ! ” she exclaimed, and the next 
moment she had taken the stranger’s hands, and her 
whole air and attitude was that of a caress. 

“ She would have kissed the fellow had she met 
him alone,” thought Mr. Walpole. “ She did kiss 
him in intent, and if he has any of his senses he must 
know it. I thought she was fresh and fancy free — so 
there goes another dream.” 

While these thoughts were in his mind he witnessed 
a similar enthusiasm in Lady Pomfret’s greeting ; and 
then Bernicia and the stranger left the room together. 


Harry’s return. 


lOI 


So Mr. Walpole, who had been slowly sauntering 
toward the group, turned back to his place at the 
window. Lord Rashleigh arrested him. 

“ Since you are deserted by Beauty, sir, will you 
tempt Fortune with me ? ” he asked. 

The cynical courtier dropped his eyes and answered 
with a slight smile, “ Alas, my lord, my means are 
not equal to your skill ! To-night I have foresworn 
cards.” 

“ Know you anything new of the peace, sir ? ” 

“ I have nothing to tell, and am glad of it.” 

“ Then we may forgive history for knowing nothing, 
since even Mr. Walpole no longer prophesies or 
relates. Still I will ask you, by what good luck, or 
good quality, do the Pelhams hoodwink the nation 
so far?” 

” I set myself no such riddling. The infatuation of 
a nation for foolish ministers is very like that of a man 
for an ugly woman. When once the eyes are opened, 
the question is. What devil bewitched us ? ” 

“ It is said you are entirely dissatisfied with public 
affairs and will therefore leave England.” 

“ A thousand falsities are abroad.” 

“And the son of Sir Robert Walpole must love 
England ? ” 

“ He would, if it were not for Englishmen.” 

“ Sir, such opinions will not add to your popularity.” 

“As I am indifferent to popularity and content 
with my fortune, the naked truth is good enough for 
me. Those who wish to be exalted may lie and 
prosper.” 

“ Indeed, Mr. Walpole, you have a reputation for 
telling snarling, odious truths, and I will not tempt 


102 


BERNICIA. 


you further that way. Beside which, I have a little 
commission to execute for Miss Cresswell.” 

“ Then you have my compassions. Have you not 
already discovered that when a pretty woman gives us 
commissions, we are only Love’s April-fools, going on 
errands to no purpose ? ” 

“ Your servant, sir. Every man must speak of 
Love Fair as his own market has gone in it.” 

With these words Rashleigh walked rather con- 
sciously and angrily away. He knew that Mr. Wal- 
pole was quietly laughing at him, and a person 
laughed at is a person injured. I had plenty of 
words for his mocking,” he thought, as he savagely 
bit his lip, “ but for my life I could not find one to 
give him. Something about the man froze them on 

my tongue point. I hate him ! Faith, I do ! D n 

his impertinent advices ! ” 

He resolved to leave the house at once, for with 
Bernicia’s exit all the light and joy had gone from the 
rooms, and a few glances at Lady Pomfret convinced 
him that she also was much preoccupied, and quite 
unable to give way to that happy abandon which was 
her distinctively entertaining attitude. Something un- 
usual and unexpected had happened to the sisters, 
but Rashleigh thought not of their exiled brother nor 
of his possible return. On the contrary, as soon as 
he was able to reflect he told himself a very different 
story. 

“ He is a Northumbrian cousin,” he decided. ** His 
size proves it, for these Border men are all giants. And 
he has some strong claim, for his confident air showed 
that he expected welcome, perhaps love. Bernicia 
met him as a lover, and a favoured one. I will fight 


Harry’s return. 


103 


him for a word, for a look. Flesh and blood cannot 
stand such treatment. Bernicia Cresswell, I wish that 
I had never seen your face ! ” 

He stepped slowly down the stairway to such 
uncomfortable thoughts. His sword trailed a little, 
and his face, troubled with an earnest sense of wrong, 
was lifted as the face of one feeling into the future is 
likely to be. At that moment he was strikingly hand- 
some, for whatever was paltry or effeminate had sunk 
below the tide of manly emotions that swept all lesser 
feelings away — his love and his fear of losing his love ; 
his contemptuous anger at Mr. Walpole ; his jealousy 
of the unknown claimant for Bernicia’s attention — 
these things, like contrary winds, blew his thoughts 
and feelings hither and thither, and though his out- 
ward bearing was indifferent, the real man was in 
a tempest. 

He took his beaver from a servant and crushed it 
between his long, nervous fingers, and when his coach 
answered his summons, he gave a peremptory order 
to his lodging, his own company being at that hour all 
of humanity he could endure, unless, indeed, someone 
— Mr. Walpole preferably — would send a challenge, 
and so find a scapegoat for his wounded love and 
miserable chagrin. 

In the solitude of his room he tried accurately to 
recall the stranger who had troubled his evening. 
“ He was a young man,” he thought. “ He had 
a determined, rather melancholy face. He had inches, 
plenty of them. He held himself proudly. He was 
dressed in mourning. He had the air of a foreigner. 
Yes, I will swear to that. There was also a kind of 
familiarity in his air. Have I known the man in 


104 


BERNICIA. 


France ? No. In Italy ? No. Have I played with 
him? Drank with him? Travelled with him ? No. 
No. No. Yet I have seen him before. Where have 
I seen him?” 

His sword lay on the table. He stretched out his 
hand and grasped it. A faint smile answered the 
touch, and he assured himself that, come what might, 
he had a friend that would permit no one to interfere 
with his claims or tamper with his honour. 

Had he known that the stranger was Bernicia’s 
brother he would doubtless have regretted so great 
a waste of feeling. And yet it was not waste ; for 
right or wrong it is well for every soul sometimes to 
touch the bottom of its nature, and so the experi- 
ence, though it came from a false estimate of condi- 
tions, revealed Lord Rashleigh to Lord Rashleigh with 
a startling distinctness. As the selfish tumult sub- 
sided, he suddenly became aware that Bernicia had 
slipped from his mind, and that without intent or 
apparent cause George Whitefield had taken posses- 
sion of him. Clearer than actuality was the seraphic 
face and the silvery tones of the preacher. And the 
words he had said came back to his memory and 
beat upon his conscience like the blows of a hammer 
on the anvil. He almost feared to raise his eyes 
lest he should see — as he had once been made to 
see — the piteous Cross and its Divine Sufferer in the 
shadows of the room. “I must sleep,” he muttered. 
“I must forget. This girl is driving me to distrac- 
tion.” 

At the same hour the innocent cause of this mental 
tumult was sitting with his sisters in Lady Pomfret’s 
room. He had eaten and refreshed himself and was 


Harry's return. 


105 

enjoying to the uttermost the almost forgotten delight 
of sympathetic conversation. 

“ We may talk to our heart’s content now,” said 
Lady Pomfret. “ It is past midnight and all are gone 
but the gentlemen who are at play with Lord John.” 

“ And they,” said Bernicia, “ w'ill shake their elbows 
and throw dice until their purses or their senses fail 
them. Harry, are you not glad to be in England 
again ? ” 

“Put it to yourself, Bernicia. When Cousin George 
walked into my poor room one morning I had nothing 
left ; money, faith, hope, friends were at an end. George 
came in the very nick of time, for I was as far out of 
heart as a man could be. He gave me hope, he fed 
and clothed me, he put gold in my purse, and he did 
all with so much of brotherhood that I had no sense 
of aught but loving kindness in the service. So I 
took heart again and came back to England and to 
you. When a man has such sisters and such kindred 
he wishes to live.” 

It was not to be expected, however, that much wise 
counsel could be taken in the first hours of such a re- 
union. Allan Cresswell’s designs, the likelihood of 
the king’s clemency, the best methods of obtaining 
it, the necessity for Harry to remain incognita until 
the decisive act was ripe for execution, all these topics 
were superficially discussed. The next evident ques- 
tion was the position Lord Pomfret would be likely 
to take. He might seriously object to Harry’s pres- 
ence in his house, and Lady Pomfret thought, in such 
case, it would be well to regard his prejudices, the 
more so, as he would then feel obliged to grant more 
vital favours. 


io6 


BERNICIA. 


“I think Lord Rashleigh would give Harry privacy,” 
said Bernicia, “and if not, there is grandmother.” 

“ Grandmother is a very hard old woman,” answered 
Lady Pomfret. “ If Harry has to go to Bloomsbury 
Square, he had better go to Uncle William at once.” 

“ Not so,” asserted Bernicia positively. “ Uncle 
William puts his principles above his feelings. Grand- 
mother can be moved to send her principles packing. 
Faith, I am sure of it.” 

“ If I could remain with my own people I should 
like it best,” said Harry. “ If not, a room in some 
private lodging.” 

“ A private lodging would be a dangerous one. 
Cousin Allan is doubtless watching, and in any dis- 
guise he would recognize you. But he will not sus- 
pect your presence with Lord Rashleigh, nor yet in 
such a Whiggery as Uncle’s William’s residence.” 

“ How long is this uncertainty to last ? If Lord 
Pomfret can but get me access to the Presence, I will 
throw myself at the king’s feet and take whatever 
punishment he is disposed to give me.” 

“ You will throw everything away by such hurry. 
Lady Chesterfield — who is the king’s natural sister — 
turns him to her wish very easily. At present, she is 
bringing to the royal closet a very famous preacher, who 
is moving the king and the queen to religious things, 
a circumstance very favourable to you. But I must 
find the right hour to speak to Lady Chesterfield, 
and this may be to-morrow or it may be a month 
hence. Come, let us say good-night. It is high 
time we were asleep, if we purpose anything for to- 
morrow.” 

The next day it was noon ere Lady Pomfret met 


HARRY^S RETURN. 


107 


her husband. Both had breakfasted alone, and Lord 
Pomfret was ready for a visit to the palace, where he 
had important business. He came fully dressed into 
his wife’s room, his swarthy face as ruddy, his eyes as 
bright, his wig as elaborately curled, his velvet and 
lace as spotless as if he had been sleeping and dress- 
ing, in'stead of gambling during the livelong night. 
Lady Pomfret affected an unusual attitude. She lay 
in her white mull negligi with closed eyes upon her 
couch. Her fine hair was undressed and an air of 
becoming lassitude lent a rare charm to her person- 
ality. She stretched out her arms with the prettiest 
languors to her husband, and he was all sympathy and 
caresses to answer them. 

“Are you obliged to leave me?” she asked. “I 
vow I am weary of all the world but you, John. And 
I am so worried, I have not shut my eyes all night. 
Indeed, my love, I am at my wits’ end.” 

“ Then let me tell you, Fanny, that I have all my 
wits about me. I have held trumps all night, and if 
it is money, I will not see you pale for a thousand.” 

“ You are good beyond everything, John. It is not 
money.” 

“ Did you quarrel with the great duchess last night, 
or did Mr. Walpole make an epigram about you ? 
Tell me the trouble, and I will blow it to the four 
winds of heaven.” 

“ ’Tis my brother Harry. He has lost his senses, I 
think. He has come back to England, and he vows 
the king may have his estate and his head, if he will 
only give him a grave in his native land. He is far 
gone every way. He is distracted. Don’t look so 
angry, John. If you bite your lips and knit your 


io8 


BERNICIA. 


brows I shall go into a syncope. I am now ill. I am 
fainting. Call my woman. Oh ! oh ! oh ! ” 

“ Fanny ! Fanny ! adorable Fanny ! Great Heaven ! 
she is dying ! Fanny, speak to me ! Look at me. 
You know I will stand by you, through everything.” 

“ Poor Harry ! He will be beheaded. He says he 
wants to be beheaded. He is so tired of life.” 

“Fiddlesticks! The king dare not behead him. He 
does not even want to behead him.” 

“ I cannot turn my own, my only brother into the 
streets. I — can — not — do — it.” 

“ And I cannot have the foolish young man in my 
house. My enemies would put me in the Tower on it. 
I mean they would howl me out of office.” 

“ I know, John. It is not right that you should be 
annoyed. Perhaps Rashleigh, if you asked him ” 

“Rashleigh is my friend, Fanny.” 

“ And ’tis a point of honour to consider your friend’s 
safety. Harry is only my brother. However, there is 
Grandmother Bouverie.” 

“ Now your senses are coming back, Fanny. Madame 
Bouverie is the proper person. Let Harry go to 
Bloomsbury Square. William Bouverie is such a well 
known Whig that nothing worse than a fine could 
come to him, even if your brother was found there. I 
wonder what the young man proposes in coming back ? 
For my own part I am sorry to know it. I wish he 
was in France. I wish he was at the ends of the earth! ” 

''John!'' 

“ I do. I do, indeed ! He has made you ill, and he 
has flustered me out of all my calculations. Why did 
he come to my house ? I have neither the mind nor 
the time to be whistled here and there on his affairs.” 


HARRY'S RETURN. 


109 

“ Of course you have neither mind nor time to 
pleasure ine. The great duke waits for you. The king 
is crying, Where is my Lord Pomfret ? Where is he ? 
Where is he ? London is speechless. England is 
breathless. The peace is waiting at Aix-la-Chapelle 
for your nod. I am nobody ; I am nothing but a poor 
sorrowful, unloved, troublesome wife.” 

Then she closed her eyes, and her pretty form shook 
with passionate sobs. 

With a heart divided between love and anger. Lord 
Pomfret was seriously annoyed and distressed. 

“ My dearest creature,” he said, ‘‘ you are as cruel as 
you are lovely and unreasonable. But if it is your will, 
and the thing is feasable and able to be brought to 
pass, I will see what I can do in your brother’s affairs. 
Cease weeping ; you know right well that every sob is 
like a sword-thrust to me.” 

She only sobbed the more distractedly, and Lord 
Pomfret finally went away. Truly he went with kisses 
and promises, and many adoring words, but it was a 
mood he cast off with an impatient Tush ! as soon as 
the door was closed, and which easily slipped into 
such forcible exclamations as to strike his coachman 
dumb. 

From a corner of the window Lady Pomfret watched 
this exhibition of feeling. She thoroughly understood 
it, and went to her morning-room with the conviction 
that it would not be prudent to try Lord John’s affec- 
tion further. She had a sense of failure. Bernicia, 
who had risen late, was just eating her breakfast, and 
the blending aromas of chocolate and buttered 
crumpets was refreshing and appetizing. 

I think I will have a cup, Tarset,” said Lady Pom- 


no 


BERNICIA. 


fret, and then turning to Bernicia, “ I have been forced 
to endure one of Lord Pomfret’s tantrums this morn- 
ing, and they always wear me out. Where is Harry ? 
It was about his affairs.” 

“ Harry is yet asleep. How went his affairs with 
Lord John ? ” 

‘‘ They did not go an inch. And I can do nothing 
while Harry is in this house, for his presence irritates 
beyond endurance. My astrologer told me that there 
were malicious conjunctions in the third house of my 
nativity, which would bring me trouble through my 
kindred ; and I suppose I may thank my stars for the 
blunders I have made this morning. If I had begged 
John in my usual way, with kisses and smiles, he was 
in a humour to have given me anything I asked for. I 
hope I may be whipped if I try crying again. Put on 
your white and yellow lutestring, Bernicia, for if Lord 
Rashleigh comes this morning with his usual civilities, 
it might be well ” 

“To ask his help. Faith, I will give him the oppor- 
tunity he is ever praying for, to be of some service to 
me. But I do not think I can flatter him to our will. 
He was in a perilous passion with me last night. I 
could feel it across the room.” 

“ It was your own fault. Was there no one to flaunt 
him for, but that finnicky Mr. Walpole ? You know 
already that Rashleigh detests him. Why are you so 
silly, so provoking, so everything no one wants you 
to be ? ” 

“ Pray what is wrong with Mr. Walpole ? ” 

“ Pray who are the Walpoles now ? They are out 
of court and out of favour. And this Mr. Horace Wal- 
pole is a younger son, a fancier of curiosities and such 


HARRY'S RETURN. 


Ill 


childish things ! Imagine any sane man buying old 
coins, when he ought to be securing those of his pres- 
ent Majesty. I have heard that he gave three 
Georgian guineas for a battered silver piece of some 
old Roman emperor. What pitiable folly 1 Besides he 
is not a marrying man. He loves Horace Walpole too 
well to love any woman better.” 

“ That is easily seen and believed. Old bachelor is 
writ all over him, and in capital letters too.” 

“ Now, if you have finished your chocolate, go and 
make yourself a little more bespeaking. The white 
and yellow lutestring is the very thing. Let me see 
how pretty you look when you have put it on.” 

But Lord Rashleigh called before the toilet was 
finished, and so Bernicia went to the parlour from her 
mirror. Being well pleased with herself, and having 
met no one to modify her satisfaction, she entered her 
lover’s presence in a temper to which his air of injury 
was extremely irritating. Two attitudes were possible 
under such conditions, she could be haughty and 
indifferent ; or she could be conciliating and provoke 
explanations. And as she wished to influence her 
lover, she choose the latter course. 

’ “ Did you remain late last evening ? ” she said. 

“ Did you dance ? Did you play ? How went the 
hours after I left the room ? Or perhaps you were 
not aware of my absence.” 

“ I saw you leave the room. You were strangely 
glad to do so. You had a visitor, apparently a very 
dear one.” 

Indeed, you know not how dear. And I was glad 
to leave the room. Do you think that a miracle ? 
Mr. Walpole is charming, but he has so many clever 


II2 


BERNICIA. 


things to say that I felt a very fool in his presence. I 
was very thankful to be interrupted.'* 

“ And by so handsome a claimant on your atten- 
tion." 

“ Yes, Hacry is handsome and brave and honourable. 
I wish that you knew him well. You would love him 
as I do." 

“ I already hate him ! " 

“You are very uncivil to me." 

“ I have good reason to be uncivil to you, Miss 
Cresswell. You deceive me ! You have been deceiv- 
ing me ever since I knew you ! I am sure of it." 

“Faith, I was just going to give you my dearest 
confidence. - I was just going to tell you all about 
poor Harry, — how much he needs a friend and a shel- 
ter, for he is in some danger for his political opin- 
ions, — and I had hoped that, for my sake, you would 
find him secrecy until his matters could be arranged.” 

“ You hope too much. I receive too small favour 
from you myself to endure the thought of any other 
man being the object of your solicitude. By Heaven ! 
I would rather kill him than shelter him ! And if this 
is the extent of your confidence, I most flatly dis- 
pense with it." 

“ You are impertinent, sir ! And I think you very 
willingly misunderstand me." 

“Your servant, Miss Cresswell. I will not trespass 
longer on time so plainly not my time." 

“ But, my lord, let me explain. Do you imagine 
the stranger to be my lover ? , Do you think " 

The questions were lost in the clash of the door, 
which Rashleigh shut with so much temper as to com- 
pletely drown Bernicia’s voice. She was indignant. 


Harry’s return. 


”3 


and she stamped her foot passionately as she ex- 
claimed : 

Go ! I am glad to see you go. By all that is 
good, I would not willingly owe you a cherry stone ! 
George Abney is worth a score of such servants.” 

Indeed, her first feeling was one of relief, and not 
of disappointment. She ran, she rather danced, along 
the corridor to her sister's presence, and, entering it 
in a glow of satisfaction, said : 

“ Here is a miracle of ingratitude ! Rashleigh, in 
spite of our favour, has gone away in a rage at my 
proposition. He pretended a fit of jealousy to excuse 
his rudeness. Never tell me romances about love. 
Love is now become a worldly-wise little god, and 
follows after Fortune.” 

“ I am sorry Lord Rashleigh has disappointed 
us.” 

“ Not I. Had he obliged us in Harry’s affair he 
would have stretched a claim for my generosity on it ; 
and, if it comes to speaking truly, I have no mind to 
dance to his piping.” 

“ But what is to be done ? Lord Pomfret will be 
home early, and will doubtless be sulking after a 
spoiled day. There could be no worse hour to bring 
Harry again to his notice.” 

“ I will go with Harry to Bloomsbury this afternoon. 
For grandmother is not to be taken with formal ap- 
proaches ; she must be made to surrender at once. 
Order the coach, Fanny, and write a letter to Cousin 
George ; for even if one lacks gratitude, politeness is 
not so very unfashionable.” 

“ Say for me whatever you think civil and proper. 
But I hope for no good from either William or 


BERNICIA. 


II4 

Madame Bouverie. Suppose grandmother entirely re- 
fuses Harry’s claim upon her ? ” 

“ Suppose she takes a distracting fancy to him ? 
We may as well suppose one thing as another ; for no 
plan is worth a finger-snap until we have put it to the 
test. So warn Harry and order the coach, and I will 
begin the attack on grandmother. How it will end 
nobody knows.” 

Bernicia’s hurry was not an inconsiderate impulse. 
She wished to catch the hour before dinner, when 
madame would, in all probability, be alone. She 
thought this private introduction best for Harry’s 
case ; and, though she was no coward personally, she 
preferred it to an entry with her brother when the 
whole Bouverie household would be present. 

As she anticipated, she found madame alone, and 
resting both from thought and labour. Her knitting 
had fallen from her hands and her eyes were closed. 
Harry looked at her a moment, and his heart over- 
flowed. Old she might be, but she was old just as his 
beloved mother would have become old. In that 
moment she became dearer to him than any other 
woman. He did not need the assuring look in 
Bernicia’s eyes. He stepped forward rapidly and 
dropped on one knee at her side. He took her thin 
hands captive in his young strong ones and said in 
a voice musical with love : 

“ Grandmother ! ” 

She heard the word. She knew the voice. It was 
the voice of her long lost Frances. With a start she 
sat upright, and her eyes fell upon the handsome 
youth watching her. She saw that there were tears in 
the eyes so like her own. She saw loving messages 


Harry’s return. 


115 

from the dead in that strange, yet familiar, face. 
For a moment she looked into it with wonder, with 
reluctance even ; then, like a flash, the tide of ever- 
lasting mother-love rushed into her heart. Smiles 
parted her stern lips ; she threw her arms around the 
young man’s neck and kissed him. It was as if a 
dead woman had come back to life. And madame 
herself was conscious of some marvellous resurrec- 
tion of feeling ; for never, since Dr. Doddridge had 
taught her in her old age to sing the name of Jesus, 
had she felt the glow and glory of such happiness as 
she now experienced. 

“ Harry Cresswell ! ” she said softly, as she kissed, 
and then again kissed him, “I know you. You are 
your mother’s very son. Kiss me for my poor dead 
Frances.” 

The tears of the aged are cold and slow, but 
madame wept as freely as any young mother over 
a recovered child. And while this gracious overflow 
softened and charmed the old woman, Bernicia spoke 
for her brother. She told madame everything, even 
to the part George had taken in bringing home the 
exile ; and madame responded with the very satis- 
factory inquiry : 

“ What ean be done for Harry, and how can I help 
him ? ” 

You must shelter him, grandmother,” said Ber- 
nicia, “ until the king can be spoken to. Lady Ches- 
terfield can save both Harry’s life and his estate, if she 
can be moved to take an interest in him.” 

“And if what I have heard be correct, George 
Whitefield can move her to take such an interest.” 

“ That is beyond a doubt.” 


ii6 


BERNICIA. 


“ Then we must move George Whitefield. A 
straight road is the nearest road." 

At this point Bernicia thought Harry might safely 
be left with madame. She was anxious to tell Claire, 
and she ran swiftly upstairs, crying “ Claire ! Claire ! 
Sweet Claire ! Harry is in the parlour. Come and see 
him. Let me tell you he has taken grandmother 
captive with a look and a word. Oh, 'tis wonderful ! 
'Tis past all knowledge ! Put on your blue ribbons 
and your amber ornaments. Your gown is without 
fault. It is like a white cloud ; but do pray hurry a 
little with your dressing." 

“ I have already finished dressing." 

“ But your ornaments ? Your bows and baubles ? " 

“I do not intend to wear them. I have some 
scruples about them. They are a mere vanity — a 
pampering of my pride." 

“ If it comes to that, why wear buckles on your 
shoes ? or clocks on your stockings ? Why wear 
ruffles on your palerine ? Ruffles are a great pamper- 
ing of vanity ! And how very thoughtless it was of 
the Creator to pamper the rose-brier, and let it wear 
roses ! And surely He ought not to let the grass be 
bespangled with buttercups and daisies ! And what 
do you think of those pampered birds wlio are per- 
mitted to wear bright scarlet and blue and yellow vests 
and top-knots? Here is your amber, Claire. How 
thankful you ought to be for a guardian who trades 
with the Baltic. Such amber can only have come that 
way. It is like solid sunshine. Now I am sure that to 
possess amber like solid sunshine, and not to wear 
it, is a great ingratitude to the Giver of all good and 
lovely things." 


Harry’s return. 


117 

“ You may be right, Bernicia. And yet I may not 
be wrong. I wish to satisfy my own conscience.” 

“ My dear Claire, there is, as my sister Fanny says, 
a certain modesty in wearing ornaments. If- you go 
down in that unadorned, angelic gown, you seem to 
say : ‘ I have no need to adorn my beauty.’ Or 
you give the impression forsooth that you do not wish 
ribbons and amber to catch the admiration which 
should alone be given to your adorable eyes and long 
bright hair.” 

“ Let us go downstairs, Bernicia,” said Claire quietly. 
“ If your brother Harry is home, then my brother 
George is also home ; and he will not thank me for 
detaining you here.” 

“ So you are determined to take your own way. 
That is what comes of being so religious, so wilful, 
so contradictory. Now, I am all grace and complai- 
sance, and what can I do to pleasure you ? But sin- 
ners are good-natured ; while saints do not care a jot 
for anything but their own interest. They call it their 
‘ eternal interest,’ but do you think eternal selfishness 
any better than temporal selfishness ? Do you, Claire ? 
Do you ? Do you really think it any better, Claire ? ” 

She was almost dancing down the stairway as she 
chattered and questioned, waiting for no answers, and 
caring for none, until she stood with Claire at the 
closed door -of the parlour. Then she looked into 
Claire’s face, and asked with a playful smile : 

“ Is it one of my handsome days ? Am I the very 
pink of perfection ? Is my gauze uncrushed ? Are 
my French fripperies quite the thing ? Are my looks 
all intelligence and expression ? Am I one of the 
sweetest creatures alive ?” 


ii8 


BERNICIA. 


“ George shall answer for me,” said Claire, opening 
the door. Harry’s hand was on George’s shoulder as 
they went in, and George was talking with earnest- 
ness ; while madame, slightly leaning toward them, 
had the air of one who gives an interested yet dissent- 
ing attention. 

The entrance of Bernicia and Claire made a swift 
interruption. George, with a rapid bow of apology 
to madame, came forward to meet them ; offering 
with impulsive delight both his hands to Bernicia. 
She spread out her skirt and her “ fripperies ” and 
made him a charming courtesy ; and then “hoped he 
was well returned, and vowed he looked sunbrowned, 
and sea blown, and a thousand times better than she 
had ever seen him look. Besides which,” she added, 
“you have caught the French air, sir.” 

“ Ho ! ho ! ” laughed George. “ That I dispute. I 
am too sincerely English at heart to take the French 
air outwardly.” 

“ Then ’tis a pity, sir,” said Bernicia, with mock 
seriousness ; “ France happens to be the word in 
fashion here, as in France it is a V Anglaise. Have 
you seen the book published there called ‘ The Anglo- 
manie ’ ? And pray, sir, why did you not deliver 
your commission in person ? Poor Harry marched 
straight into the enemy’s camp last night ; for you 
must know that my sister Fanny had a dinner party. 
Fortunately, the brains of the company were either 
in their hands with the cards, or in their feet with 
the fiddles. Had they been better employed, Harry’s 
stalking into their midst had been a rare riddle for 
their wit or their ill-nature.” 

Ere George could explain his apparent carelessness. 


HARRY'S RETURN. 


II9 

William Bouverie entered, and the men serving the 
dinner followed immediately. He looked harassed 
and sombre, and madame for the moment felt a little 
flutter of anxiety, such as she had been a stranger to 
for many a year. But she rose, put her hand through 
Harry’s arm, and advanced a few steps saying : 

“ Son William, this is my grandson, Harry Cress- 
well. I have asked him to be my guest for a short 
time. His visit is a very great pleasure to me.” 

Bouverie was far from being pleased, but madame 
had appealed to him in an irresistible manner. He 
had a great reverence for his mother, and a hypersen- 
sitive fear lest she might feel herself in any way less 
than mistress of his house. Had not this motive 
existed there still remained the powerful sense of 
hospitality and the chivalrous regard for a guest 
which was then a national trait with the strength of 
centuries behind it ; and thus swayed by instinctive 
interests allied to his very nature, he found it impos- 
sible to be aught but courteous to his nephew. 

Yet it was a silent, perturbed meal, and the atmos- 
phere was infectious. Madame appeared to be lost in 
thought ; George answered his guardian’s questions 
in respectful monosyllables ; Harry ate little and said 
less ; and Claire scarcely lifted her eyes. Bernicia 
made a struggle against the manifest depression, but 
even she was finally compelled to say “ she would 
content herself with looking as cheerful as any girl 
could do in that condition.” 

Her uncle smiled at the air with which this decision 
was given, and asked : “ Pray, what condition, Ber- 
nicia ? ” 

“ Qh, the humour of the family, Uncle William ! 


120 


BERNICIA. 


’Tis a silent humour, and 'tis a pity, for I am in a 
mood to talk wisely, if the hour would but permit me.” 

“ I met Lord and Lady Pomfret as I came home,” 
he answered, as if willing to turn the conversation to 
the Pomfret family. “They were going with out- 
riders and footmen to court, I suppose ? ” 

“ Indeed, no ! They were going to sup at Rane- 
lagh. Everybody of importance now goes there ; for, 
as Mr. Walpole says, the very floor is of beaten 
princes : you cannot set your foot down without 
treading on a Prince of Wales or a Duke of Cumber- 
land. Lord Chesterfield is so in love with the place 
that he has all his letters addressed there.” 

“ How singular ! ” said George. “ Lord Chester- 
field must have many letters of grave importance.” 

“ Perhaps 'tis only his billets-doux that have a post 
at Ranelagh,” suggested Harry. 

He made the remark aimlessly, but it was an un- 
fortunate one. Nobody answered it ; silence again 
prevailed ; and Bernicia, with a shrug and a scornful 
smile, accepted a condition of things she found herself 
unable to alter. 

After dinner William Bouverie excused himself on 
the plea of a meeting of the City Council ; and then, 
the night being warm, the parlour door was thrown 
open, and George took Bernicia by the hand and led 
her into the large hall. There he began to talk to her 
of the men whose portraits filled it ; and while the 
servants were passing to and fro, this conversation did 
very well. But, when their work was done, Bernicia 
said : 

“I am not interested in these dead gentlemen. 
Pray, sir, what have you to say for yourself ? ” 


Harry's return. 


I2I 


“ I have first to complain of you. When I came to 
meet you with my hands outstretched and my heart in 
them, you gave me a courtesy.” 

“ You ought to be grateful. I do not courtesy to 
many people. My hands were busy, as you could see, 
spreading out my skirts. Could I give them to you 
and spoil a reverence ? ” 

“ You ought to have given them to me. Surely you 
owe me some show of love, Bernicia ! ” 

“ Such show of love as I owe^ you may put among 
your desperate debts. Nothing vexes me more than 
to pay what I owe.” 

“ Give me a little love, then. I am hungering 
for it.” 

They were close to the door of the large parlour as 
he spoke, and George opened it and led her to a seat. 
Then he drew up the window blinds and let the red 
rays of the setting sun flood with their glory the 
splendour of the carved and gilded woods, the fine 
damasks, the pictures, the china, and the curios. 

“ What a magnificent room this is ! ” cried Bernicia. 

“ ’Tis but the frame to the fairest picture in the 
world when you are in it. Queen of my heart ! I love 
you ! ” 

“Others also say that, cousin.” 

“ Cousin me not. You have already called me 
‘ George,’ and you shall not go back a letter of it. 
Say George ! ” 

And there was something about the order that she 
could not resist. The two words marched into her 
heart and conquered it. She trembled, she sighed, she 
said “ George.” And then he kissed her. 

It was the first love kiss Bernicia had received. 


122 


BERNICIA. 


It was the first love kiss George had given. For 
a moment there was a divine silence between them. 
Bernicia was rosy and then white as the roses at her 
breast. George’s bending face was transfigured by 
an unspeakable transport, and he laughed softly in his 
rapture — a rippling, joyful laugh, such as comes only 
from the pure in heart when their bliss is beyond 
earth’s syllables. 

Then he talked with her as lovers have talked ever 
since the world began. Wonderful words ! Foolish 
words. The eloquence of children and of angels ! 
It was their moment of paradise. George was newly 
created, and he had just found his Eve. And Ber- 
nicia listened as Eve had listened. The song was a 
new song on George’s lips. The story was made for 
her. It was as if kisses were a thing of George’s 
invention. They spoke low. They forgot to speak. 
Bernicia surrendered her hand to her lover ; she sur- 
rendered also her will, for, whenever she said “ We 
must go back to Claire,” he answered “No, we will 
stay here a little longer.” And she stayed. 

It was not until he ventured on the word “ wife ” 
that he frightened her. Then she rose and shook her 
head positively. 

“ You have spoiled all, George,’' she said, in a pet. 
“ Why could you not be content ? Why did you say 
‘ wife ’ ? ” 

“ ’Tis a sweet word, my dear one.” 

“ ’Tis a shrill word, a penetrating word, a word of 
power. I will not listen to it. Call me ‘ love,’ not 
‘ wife.’ ” 

“ By all that is good and true, you have given me 
a promise.” 


HARRY'S RETURN. 


123 


“Then it was an inconsiderate promise. I am sorry 
I gave it, if I did give it. Come, let us go to madame 
and Claire.” 

“ But I hope, Bernicia ” 

“Hope ! Yes. I have had lovers who have built 
castles upon hope. Hope is no foundation.” 

“ Dearest ! sweetest ! most adorable Bernicia ! ” 

Then she smiled again and submitted, and slowly, 
very slowly, step by step, they went back to the 
parlour. 

It was draped in the same gray twilight as the room 
they had left. No one had thought of candles, for both 
madame and Claire had become oblivious of their 
immediate surroundings, while listening to the out- 
pouring of the tragic young life beside them. They 
were sitting close to a window, and Harry, with the 
ineffable look of youth in his glooming and glowing 
countenance, was telling the story of his sorrows, 
his disappointments, and his sufferings. Claire’s 
face was lifted to his full of compassion, and 
madame, listening with all her heart, was not aware 
that she was crushing between her fingers the stems 
of the flowering musk, though this waste of its cool, 
subtle fragrance filled the room like the very breath 
of heaven. 

“ I have troubled you,” said Harry, as George and 
Bernicia joined them. “ And why should I ? Nothing 
is ever given back to the moment that has struck. My 
past I can never redeem. But as you see, grand- 
mother, I have been a bond slave to ideas and prej- 
udices which I received at my birth. When mis- 
fortune taught me how to think, and the breaking of 
all my idols taught me how to feel, then I understood 


124 


BERNICIA. 


that political truths are only truths of periods, and 
that a mental and moral slavery to dead ideas is as 
real a slavery as a physical one.” 

Madame rose to her feet. In the gray twilight her 
tall figure had great majesty, as she said in her soft, 
resolute speech : 

“ Children ! All slavery, whether it be spiritual, 
mental, or physical, is a violation of nature. We are 
all born to die. But none of us is born to be a 
slave ! ” 


CHAPTER VI. 


LOVER AND PREACHER. 

When Bernicia returned home, she found the . 
household in a hurry of preparation for the country. 
With an explanatory wave of the hand, Lady Pomfret 
drew Bernicia’s attention to the maids and men 
packing and cording the little hair-covered trunks, 
and then, taking her into an adjoining room, she 
asked impatiently : 

“ Where is Harry ? Did he see grandmother ? And 
what success had he with her ? ” 

“ Harry will remain in Bloomsbury until something 
can be done in his affairs. Sink or swim, grand- 
mother will stand by him, of that I am sure. Harry 
went straight to her heart, and she already thinks 
mountains and miracles of him.” 

“And was Uncle William as easily charmed ! ” 

“ At the first he was merely courteous, but after 
a night’s reflection he was also generous. He charged 
me to tell you, if gold were necessary to Harry’s safety, 
he would be responsible for any reasonable sum.” 

“ Indeed gold is the first and the last necessity. 
Lord Pomfret will have to work Harry’s affairs with 
the purse open in his hand.” 

“ Have you then engaged Lord Pomfret’s assistance ? 
How did you manage it ? ** 

“We dined tete-h-tHe last night. He told me in 
advance that he had made a vow not to let any Stuart 


125 


126 


BERNICIA. 


business touch his integrity to the Hanover people. 
Before his first bottle was finished he had promised 
me all my desires. Ah, Bernicia, what is integrity to 
fascination ? 

“ And pray how will he work the business ? " 

“ Through Lord Rashleigh. Your lover’s jealous 
mistake is a most lucky event. It enchanted Lord 
John. He laughed himself into the most obliging 
humour about it. And I assure you I acted the little 
play for him in a very diverting manner.” 

“ I have no doubt you did. You spare no one in 
such diversions, Fanny.” 

“ My dear, I did you no injury, and I did Harry 
a world of good. You must know that Rashleigh’s 
high bred air and flashing black eyes are much 
admired by the great countess. He has only to bet 
her a thousand guineas that she cannot get Harry 
a pardon and the thing is done. When she touches 
the money, Harry will get the king’s grace.” 

Has she such influence at court ? ” 

“ The king is on his knees to her, and she can be 
bought at every point. If Lord Rashleigh then will 
manage the German woman, she in turn will man- 
age the king. The way is clear enough.” 

“ ’Tis a dirty way, and a way without honour. I 
vow grandmother had a better thought.” 

“ Then let us have it, by all means.” 

“ She would have us go direct to Mr. Whitefield. 
He is said to be omnipotent with the Countess of 
Chesterfield, who is the king’s sister, and very able to 
move him to mercy. And surely it is better the king 
should know Harry through the saintly Chesterfield, 
than through such a sinner as the German countess.” 


LOVER AND PREACHER. 


127 


“ What simpleton has told you that the king knows 
saints from sinners ? He is sentimental, or he is gross. 
When he is sentimental he weeps, and the Chesterfield 
or the preacher might perhaps touch him. When he 
is gross, and in general he is gross, the German 
does her will with him. Grandmother’s way is the 
way of the angels, and she would need the Archangel 
Michael to go before her. Such hopes are fantasti- 
cal. But Uncle William’s offer is the length and 
breadth of intelligence. He has wit enough to know 
that the purse is stronger than the preacher.*' 

“But how provoking are these probabilities and 
delays. I am with Harry, who would gladly see the 
king and speak for himself.” 

“ Harry is yet so young that he believes nothing is 
impossible to him. It galls his pride to take favours, 
but he must take them or be ruined. And you com- 
plain of probabilities and delays, yet I tell you 
frankly, Bernicia, that uncertainty and expectation 
are among the very joys of life.” 

“ Well, then, so much for Harry at the present. He 
is comfortably bestowed for a week or two, and I see 
that you are packing your wardrobe. Now tell me 
for what reason ? ” 

“ We are going to the country. Captain Wilder- 
mere has lent us his villa at Richmond. I suppose it 
was on the cards. He is said to sleep with them in 
his hands.” 

“ How wicked we all are, Fanny ! ” 

“I dare say that Piccadilly and the Mall are very 
like what the fashionable streets in Sodom and Tyre 
and Sidon were. My dear, we should rattle the dice, 
and go to races and balls, if fire or the French were 


128 


BERNICIA. 


at our doors. That is what Mr. Walpole thinks, 
and he has a very observing mind. But good or bad, 
we must live in some way, and simplicity and the 
country are now the fashion. Tell Tarset to pack 
your fineries ; we shall send the trunks and some of 
the servants to-morrow, and follow them at our con- 
venience.” 

“ Have we any engagement for to-night } ” 

“ Oh, you may be certain that as the house is topsy- 
turvy, and the servants out of their wits and tempers, 
Lord John will bring home company to dinner. So 
make yourself handsome and agreeable for Harry’s 
sake.” 

Nothing further was said, but Bernicia understood 
that Lord Rashleigh would be of the company, and if 
so, that he would find opportunity to make a thou- 
sand apologies and protestations. And though, as she 
told herself, the man was hateful to her, and not to 
be thought of as a lover, she had the feminine desire 
to look aggravatingly lovely in his presence. So she 
put on the snowy Indian mull which Rashleigh vowed 
made her most ravishing. Her charming face, her 
shining eyes, her waving hair, her tall and slender form, 
and the glint of gems on her white arms and throat, 
made her so bewitchingly attractive that when Rashleigh 
entered the room he was speechless with admiration. 

Bernicia was alone. She was leaning against an 
open window, idly fingering a spray of honeysuckle 
which encircled it, and the room was full of its 
fragrance and of her beauty. The young nobleman 
was beside himself with love for her, but she did not 
lift her eyes from the honeysuckle spray, nor did she- 
by either smile or word encourage her penitent suitor. 


LOVER AND PREACHER. 


129 


He gazed at her until his heart burned, and then the 
next moment he was kneeling at her feet. The act was 
spontaneous and natural. He had not intended it, and 
he was not able to avoid it. His great love forced him to 
his knees, and in that attitude he found the words he 
wished to say. He made no apologies for his mistake, 
nor yet for his bad temper, he laid everything to the 
master passion that ruled him. He said he was mad 
with jealousy, and was not sorry for it. Brother or 
lover, all men were hateful to him who won from her 
the smiles and words he was dying for. 

“ If you will not love me, Bernicia Cresswell,” he 
cried, “ then bid me die at your feet. My sword will 
not hurt as cruelly as your disdain.” 

The words were living words, full of the might of 
truth, and Bernicia could not avoid looking at the 
speaker. He was handsome, he was graceful, he was 
in very earnest, but she was annoyed, and there was 
a tone of anger in her voice as she answered : 

“ Stand up. Lord Rashleigh ! I am not to be woo’d 
in any such fashion. Give me your arm and we will 
take a stroll in the garden.” 

He did as he was told, but his manner was that 
of a man both injured and offended. As they walked 
one length of the flagged avenue skirting the house, 
he remained silent, looking straight before him, and 
giving Bernicia no aid whatever in her purpose to 
change the conversation. Indeed, he preserved intact 
the attitude of a man waiting for an answer. 

His silent persistence vexed Bernicia. She thought 
he might have understood her reluctance to be 
suddenly pinned down to a promise and a position. 
The silence made a demand, it claimed something, it 


130 


BERNICIA. 


irritated her, and as they turned backward she broke' 
its spell with a pettish assertion that “ the wind was 
chill and the dust blowing, and that she would go 
back to the house.” 

“ But you will answer me first, Miss Cresswell. 
Indeed, you will.” 

“Then it must be a put-off, sir. I am shivery ; I 
am ill at ease, and my thoughts are with others. I 
have little mind to talk at present, except it be about 
my brother Harry.” 

“ I have already discussed his affairs with Lord 
Pomfret, and pledged my utmost ability in his behalf.” 

“ Why did you not tell me so much before ? I 
would have thanked you most feelingly for the news.” 

“ Your gratitude is not what I ask for ; I am dying 
for your love, and nothing less will content me.” 
Then suddenly he took both her hands in his own, and 
said, “ You shall not leave until you say some sensible 
word to me. May I love you with any hope of 
return?” 

She made an effort to withdraw her hands, but the 
grasp was too firm, and she said with some temper : 

“ I am not to be forced into a promise. Give me 
my hands. Under compulsion, I will not say one kind 
word.” 

“Oh, Bernicia ! Oh, little proud, wild heart! I 
will win, or I will die for you ! ” 

Then he kissed her hands, and let them fall, and 
Bernicia looked with pretended pity at the marks his 
grasp had left. But there was something in this 
mastery that pleased her. She walked slowly at 
Rashleigh’s side, and his ardent glances stole softly 
into her consciousness. He made her no compli- 


LOVER AND PREACHER. 


I3I 

ll'ents, and she liked him for the omission. She was 
no vain girl to be caught with a few silly words. 
As they approached the door, she heard Lord Pom- 
fret’s voice, and she said : 

“ I am sure that my brother has visitors with him. 
Our conversation is not for the public. Let us talk of 
the new play, or the weather, or the prince, or the 
preacher, or anything that is common and general.” 

Suiting her actions to her words, she advanced to 
meet the gay company who had accompanied Lord 
Pomfret home. The party was immediately joined by 
Lady Pomfret, then dinner was served, and the hours 
went by in eating and health-drinking, and in much 
conversation that ^was both witty and scandalous. 
Cards, music, and a minuet followed, but Bernicia was 
restless and not very happy. She watched Lord 
Rashleigh in a critical temper, and yet found much to 
admire that she had not before observed. He was 
indeed slighter and shorter than George Abney, and 
his face and manner lacked entirely the placid 
strength and beauty which distinguished the young 
citizen. On the contrary Rashleigh’s countenance 
was dark, thin, and full of passionate expressions ; 
and his manner reckless and authoritative. But as the 
players sat at the tables, Bernicia watched his careless 
extravagance with an angry admiration. He dealt 
with indifference, he staked with still greater indiffer- 
ence, he lost continually with a levity that was not 
good nature. She blamed herself for his imprudences, 
and her anger turned to pity, and she said at the close 
of a game : 

“ My lord, what say you to a minuet ? My sister 
will play us the measure.” 


132 


BERNICIA. 


Lady Pomfret was very willing, and Rashleigh was 
in a mood to excel himself. He danced to perfection, 
and piqued Bernicia into an equal enthusiasm ; so 
that the company gradually left the tables to watch 
the graceful movements and courtesies of the dancers. 
And after this concession, it was impossible for Rash- 
leigh to maintain his attitude of reckless offence. He 
said to himself that he had chosen an ill hour, and 
must now wait for a better opportunity. And as men 
like a scapegoat for their mistakes, he laid the blame 
of his imprudence upon Harry Cresswell. He drove 
me into a fever of jealousy, and made me look and 
say a score of foolish things ; yet I have promised to 
secure a pardon for him, if the thing can be brought 
to pass through woman or gold. ’Tis a thousand 
pities I am so easy-tempered.” Thus he thought, and 
thus he tried to comfort his wounded self-esteem. 

Lady Pomfret was sure Lord Rashleigh could com- 
pass Harry’s pardon, but Bernicia had little faith in 
him. 

“A bad woman and the king’s temper are as 
unreliable things to build hope on as can be,” she 
said, “ and Harry’s pardon by such means is as dubi- 
ous as possible.” 

“It is obvious as possible,” reiterated Lady 
Pomfret. 

“Very well; your cry is 'Obvious I obvious!' and 
mine is 'Dubious ! dubious ! ’ Between Rashleigh and 
the countess and the king, I have no doubt the affair 
will fluctuate until it is exceedingly tiresome, and we 
are all aweary of it.” 

“ You are in a discontented mood, miss, and no one 
can pleasure you. To-morrow you must say your 


LOVER AND PREACHER. I33 

‘ farewells ' in Bloomsbury, and I hope the people 
there may content you better. However, as I am 
resolved to go to Richmond in the afternoon, you will 
return home early in the day, I hope.’' 

Bernicia's visit to Bloomsbury was important, not 
only as a matter of courtesy to her relatives, but she 
was also to carry a letter from Lord Pomfret to William 
Bouverie, and to inform Harry of the movements to 
be made in his favour. Madame heard them with 
extreme disapprobation. Harry had become dear to 
her, and she could not endure that he should owe his 
pardon to the blandishments of a wanton. 

“There is some better way,” she said positively. 
“ Such a plan is wickedness itself. Will you take the 
king’s grace, Harry, through the hands of the flesh 
and the devil ? ’’ 

The young man hesitated. “ If a prisoner is seek- 
ing life and liberty,” he said, “he cares not what 
hands open his prison door.” Then he rose from 
Claire's side and began to argue on the expediency 
of accepting such opportunities as fortune provided. 
He spoke well, and Bernicia nodded assent to some of 
his assertions, and Claire sighed at their sinful reason- 
ableness ; but madame was not to be convinced. 

“ If I were but a spectator in the matter,” she 
answered, “ I could frown, and jog my foot, and say 
‘ How wicked are people grown ! ' and so send the 
subject out of my thoughts ; but in this case I have a 
responsibility, and such airs will not do with my own 
conscience. But I must believe that there are good 
people who will show mercy for God’s sake, as well as 
wicked people who will sell it for gold or lust.” 

After this she relapsed into silence and thought, and 


134 


BERNICIA. 


the young people sat by one of the open windows and 
talked softly of a great many things. . Bernicia de- 
scribed the dinner of the previous evening, the play 
and the minuet, and, generally speaking, usurped the 
conversation. But her eyes were as busy as her 
tongue, and she noticed that Harry heard little that 
was said, and that he was wholly absorbed in Claire, 
who seemed to have put on a new nature. And in a 
measure this was true, for Claire had hitherto been 
like a flower partially opened, with some leaves yet 
asleep at its roots, and some petals 5'^et folded in bud. 
Suddenly a breath of love had blown buds and leaves 
to perfection. Bernicia was astonished at the change. 
She could not help saying to herself, “ How exquisite 
she is ! What holy fantasies are in her eyes ! What 
an air of sweet austerity is around her ! She is an 
angel, both inside and out.” 

No one spoke of George, and Bernicia was too con- 
scious of her interest in him to do so. Harry was 
thinking of Claire; Claire thinking only of Harry, and 
to madame, George Abney had never been an object of 
affection, nor even of much solicitude. But the omis- 
sion finally irritated Bernicia, and she said testily : 

“ I shall go to your room and rest a little, Claire. I 
think you and Harry can make shift to do without 
me.” And she looked at Claire and Harry, and 
coughed behind her fan in a way that covered Claire 
with blushes, and made her rise hastily, saying : 

“ Indeed, I shall go with you, Bernicia. I also think 
that Harry can make shift to do without me.” 

When they had reached Claire’s room Bernicia threw 
herself on a lounge with an impatient manner. 

“ What a tiresome morning it has been ! ” she cried. 


LOVER AND PREACHER. 1 35 

I hate to be in a company where nobody thinks 
of me.” 

‘‘ You are always in my mind, Bernicia.” 

“ With all the good temper in the world, I say that 
I was out of everyone’s consideration. You thought 
only of Harry, and grandmother thought only of 
Harry, and Harry thought only of you. You have a 
most celestial way with Harry, but trust me, it is one 
that will bring you into scrapes, miss, sooner or 
later.” 

“ And you have a way with me, that would be very 
wounding, if I did not know how little it meant. I 
was simply listening to Harry’s opinions. I am sure 
you also agreed with them.” 

“ I have no objection to his opinions, except that in 
general they overturn my own. At present I am for 
the country and a sleep. I shall let everything go for 
a seven days or so.” 

“ But about Harry’s pardon — what is to be done ? ” 

‘‘ Whenever I come to the pass of what is to be 
done^ I answer, nothing y 

“ But Harry’s affairs can hardly wait.” 

“ I trust I am more prudent than to be doing, 
whether events favour or not. I can wait for the little 
god. Opportunity. I am so tired of hearing nothing 
but Harry ! For a change, let me ask you where is 
George ? I came early this morning, hoping to see 
him, and lo ! and behold ! he is invisible and appar- 
ently unmentionable.” 

“ No one has seen George this morning, and the 
reason is very natural. Uncle had two great ships 
leaving at midnight for the Baltic and the Spanish 
seas, and George was necessary. After their depart- 


136 


BERNICIA. 


ure he would sleep at his irrn, and so to business this 
morning from there. Had he known you were here, we 
might certainly have counted on his presence, for you 
have a way with George, that makes him very much 
your servant. I hope truly it may bring you happi- 
ness and keep you out of scrapes.” 

“ Claire, you are a mean little sinner to give me 
my words back so uncharitably. Do you wish to heap 
coals of fire on my head ? And if so, what do you 
think of deviating into the right for a wrong reason ? 
Is it not very like doing evil that good may come ? 
Fanny told me to invite you to visit us at Richmond. 
Shall I not come in for you next week ? ” 

“ If madame will consent. You know already that 
it is always pleasant for me to be with you.” 

“ I have also an invitation for George.” 

‘‘ Does Lady Pomfret indeed care to see my brother 
again ? ” 

She has but one cry against him, that he is a born 
Dissenter, the only fault he cannot possibly correct.” 

“ Indeed, George is very little of a bigot. When he 
was talking with uncle about Harry, he said, ‘ Sir, I 
should as soon expect every man to be of my height 
and complexion as of my views and opinions.’ ” 

“ What a tiresome subject we have fallen upon ! 
Let us talk of dress and lovers and such trifles. I am 
in no mood to be serious, and I wish that George were 
here to sing with me, or quarrel with me, for I am 
tired of conversation that has a purpose.” 

In this assertion Bernicia was flatly denying her 
actual ternper. She was anxious about Harry, 
troubled about Lord Rashleigh, uncertain about her 
feeling for George Abney, disgusted with the frivolities 


LOVER AND PREACHER. 137 

of her life, and yet afraid of the realities of a wiser 
one. Her emotions were so complex that she could 
not understand them, and she suffered from that 
weary depression which always accompanies our in- 
abilities in any direction. 

She saw George at dinner, but the meeting was a dis- 
appointment. He was strangely preoccupied ; he was 
even restless, a condition quite at variance with his 
character and habits. At the table he spoke seldom, 
but he frequently laid down his knife and fork with a 
sudden action that compelled the attention of all pres- 
ent. Bernicia felt that for some reason she had 
ceased to command his thoughts, that indeed some 
transcendent interest had taken possession of his 
mind, and she was piqued and curious about the change. 
But George said nothing in explanation until the 
cloth was drawn and the servants had left the room. 
Then he rose to his feet, his face shone, his eyes filled 
with tears, his whole person radiated the intensity of 
his feeling. All were attracted by his appearance, 
and William Bouverie said : 

“ I see that you have something to tell us, George. 
What have you heard ? Where have you been ? ” 

“ I went this morning to Moorfields, sir. I went to 
Moorfields, and Mr. Whitefield took me to Calvary. 
And I have heard the voice of the Lord like a cry at 
midnight, startling the sleeping world. Oh, sir ! I can 
never be the same man again ! ” 

“ I hope then, George, you will be a better man,” 
said William Bouverie. “ Pray what took you to 
Moorfields ? ” 

“ You know, sir, that I was at the wharves until the 
ships sailed. And my heart was full of them. They 


BERNICIA. 


138 

seemed to me like living creatures bound on great 
adventures ; and when they slipped their anchors, I 
lifted my hat to their captains and men, and was much 
affected. The silence and the night, the wind and 
the tide, and many other things made my heart swell ; 
and I reached my inn very little inclined to sleep. 
After two or three restless hours I heard the continu- 
ous tread of feet, and I went to the window and 
opened it. Then I saw great numbers of poor folk 
going in one direction. It was not near the dawning, 
and some who had come from far off had still their 
lighted lanterns in their hands. I said to myself on 
the instant, these people are going to hear George 
Whitefield preach. For you must know that his first 
sermon at the dawn is only heard by watermen and 
river-traders, hawkers and market folk, and such as 
have no time later on in the day. So I went with them, 
and I heard a sermon in market language — a sermon 
that a little child could have understood, that an 
apostle might have preached.” 

William Bouverie played with his watch chain and 
seals, and looked down, but madame said in a tone of 
expectancy, “ Well, then, George Abney, tell us what 
you saw and heard ? ” 

When I reached Moorfields,” continued George, 
there were at least three thousand people present. 
It was not quite dawn, and all the common was gray 
and dewy. There was the murmur of the multitude, 
but so little rude noise that I heard the crowing of 
the cocks in the far-off solitary farmhouses. White- 
field’s whole figure was visible, and the great congre- 
gation stood before him. His white surplice fell to 
his feet ; his beaming face shone in the dim light ; his 


LOVER AND PREACHER. 1 39 

arms were uplifted, and in his right hand he held a 
small open Bible, as he cried, ‘ Come unto me all ye that 
are weary and heavy laden!' And his wonderful 
voice, sweet and strong as an angel’s, thrilled the air 
above, and the hearts below. ‘ It is Jesus Christ who 
asks you to come to him,’ he continued, ‘ because he 
knows what it is to be hungry, and thirsty, and weary, 
and friendless, and homeless. Are you poor? Jesus 
had not where to lay his head. Are you weary ? J esus 
fainted under his Cross. Are you wronged by those 
who ought to love you ? Jesus was sold by Judas, 
and denied by Peter, and his own brethren thought 
him mad.’ The enthusiasm of Heaven was in every 
word, his soul burned as he entreated and persuaded. 
He took us to Gethsemane, and led us up the hill 
Calvary. He drew apart the curtains which veil 
eternity, and showed us the despairs of the lost, and 
the ineffable happiness of the saved. He stretched 
out his arms as if he would gather the multitude with- 
in them, and said that so were the arms of Christ out- 
stretched upon the Cross, that he might draw all men 
unto him. And when at last he cried out, * Let us 
with angels and archangels, and with the whole com- 
pany of heaven, come to the only begotten Son, Jesus 
Christ, the Lamb of God, the Son of the Father, who 
taketh away the sins of the world,’ there was no 
necessity to bid us kneel or bid us pray. We were 
all on our knees. We were all praying. As the 
preacher finished, the first rays of the rising sun fell 
over him, and his white raiment shone in the light, 
and he blessed us there. Then the men and women 
went away to their work on the river, and in the streets, 
and though most of them were weeping, they were 


140 


BERNICIA. 


such tears as God brings out of his sanctuary and 
wipes away with his own hand.” 

And were you weeping, cousin ? ” asked Bernicia. 

“ Indeed,” answered George, “ I had an inexpress- 
ible * anguish and sadness when I looked on these 
weary ones with their wan faces and reddened eyelids, 
and thought of the multitudes who, even in this Eng- 
land, know not of Christ. And all other things 
seemed insignificant to me at that hour, and I longed 
for the tongue of an angel that I might preach the 
everlasting Gospel.” 

“God puts each man in his proper place, George. 
That is his work, it is not ours,” said William 
Bouverie. “ And I say truly,” he continued, “ that I 
do not altogether approve of these Methodists. Mr. 
Whitefield and the Wesleys, and others of the same 
persuasion, are ordained clergymen of the Church of 
England. There are plenty of churches to preach in ; 
and this hedge and highway preaching is likely to 
degrade holy things.” 

“ Son William,” said madame, “ Mr. Whitefield has 
precedents. Jesus Christ preached in the fields and 
highways. Peter preached in the house of Cornelius ; 
and St. Paul preached a great sermon on Mars Hill.” 

“ Let us not dispute further, mother. We can talk 
ourselves into error. But I will say that men who are 
neither Churchmen nor Dissenters are suspicious. If 
Episcopacy is too narrow for them, surely Dissent is 
wide enough.” 

“ Methodism and Dissent are radically different, 
sir,” said George. 

“ Then, George, Methodism is very likely radically 
in the wrong.” 


LOVER AND PREACHER, 


141 

** I think not, sir. The quarrel of Dissent with the 
Church is with its government ; the quarrel of Metho- 
dism is with its atheism and want of living religion ; 
with ” 

’Tis no matter, George. We are neither Luthers 
nor Calvins. And, ’tis said, these Methodists are 
already quarrelling among themselves. Whitefield is 
crying ‘ Calvin ’ and Wesley * Arminius,’ and so it 
goes. Public opinion is greatly against them.” 

“ Indeed, son William,” said madame, “ I give little 
for public opinion in matters of religion. Public 
opinion was with Pilate, and against Christ ; with the 
world, and against the apostles ; and so it ever is. If 
these Methodists are of God, he will approve them ; 
and if not, they will quickly vanish away.” 

** 1 assure you, sir,” said George, that God yet 
speaks to mortal man. Both Churchmen and Dis- 
senters may scorn this little company of preachers, 
but glorious things shall yet be spoken of them ; for 
I heard this morning the shout of a King in the 
Methodist camp.” 

He spoke with a passion of conviction that was 
independent of either the sympathy or indifference 
of his audience. For he was seeing — not with^ but 
through his eyes — things invisible : the kneeling, weep- 
ing multitude at the feet of the seraphic preacher 
adjuring angels and archangels, and the whole com- 
pany of heaven, to lead them to the Lamb of God, the 
Son of the Father, who taketh away the sins of the 
world. 

Yet it was only madame and Claire who in any 
measure entered into his feelings. William Bouverie 
was annoyed, and he said in a tone of finality : ’Tis 


142 


BERNICIA. 


a subject we are none of us ready to be judges on.** 
And with these words he rose and went to his private 
room. Then Harry, whose curiosity was aroused, began 
to question madame, and George tried to draw Ber- 
nicia into the privacy of the state parlour. But never 
had she been so unreasonable. She made a mock, not 
only of her own feelings, but of every other person’s, 
and she vowed that “ George Abney could speak of 
things of no signification with more importance than 
any other man.” Then as she felt herself to be nearer 
tears than laughter she became contradictory and 
even cross. George was patient, because love under- 
stands and can therefore wait ; yet her bad temper 
bit at both ends and all along the line, and she made 
herself as miserable as she made her lover. Indeed, 
everyone in the room was growing irritable, when 
Bernicia finally said : 

I have listened to all kinds of disagreeable 
opinions with as much patience as any Christian 
could, but now, if you will excuse my presence, I shall 
put my eyes and ears to sleep. To-morrow we go to 
Richmond, and Fanny expects me early.” 

To-morrow ! ” cried madame. “ To-morrow is 
Saturday. You cannot possibly get into any order 
before the Sabbath day.” 

“Well, grandmother, Fanny has no partiality for 
the Sabbath day ; and, to be sure, it is a poor thing 
to put all our religion into one favourite day, as jf the 
other six had no souls to save.” 

“That must be one of Mr. Walpole’s smart sayings,” 
replied madame, with much anger ; “ for wits never 
think they are great wits until they laugh at things too 
holy for them to name.” 


LOVER AND PREACHER. 


143 


“ Then I beg your pardon for Mr. Walpole, grand- 
mother. Whom shall we talk of ? The wit is too 
bad, and the preacher is too good.” 

“ Bernicia,” said George, as he lifted her hand, “ I 
have a strange thing to tell you about the preacher.” 

“ I will not hear another word about him, sir,” and 
she withdrew her hand in a manner to emphasise 
her refusal. 

“But I have heard you say that you wished to know 
all that concerned the Moorfields service.” 

“ I have said many foolish things, and besides, you 
have quite satisfied me. I now see plainly that the 
early-morning Methodists have the best of it. Mr. 
Whitefield keeps all his good promises for the hawkers, 
and watermen, and servant maids. For sinners of the 
court and the quality he has nothing but the devil 
and his dwelling-place. So you see, all of you, that 
there is one Gospel for Park Street and another Gospel 
for Moorfields. So much for Mr. Whitefield. I will 
have no more of him,” and so with a courtesy to 
madame she left the room. 


CHAPTER VII. 


WILLIAM BOUVERIE’S ANGER. 

One morning in the following July George White- 
field was sitting motionless in his lodging. The 
physical man was weary, and the nobler man within 
the physical man was sorrowful from standing in the 
shadow of unnatural death. On the Edgeware Road 
at the dawn he had preached Christ to many thousand 
souls, and coming back, full of the rapture of his 
theme, had met a little congregation impossible to 
pass. It was a thief going to Tyburn, — that melan- 
choly old place of execution, — a thief sitting on his 
coffin with the hangman smoking his pipe beside him, 
and the javelin men surrounding the cart, and a ribald 
crowd following after. Under the gallows, standing 
by the thief’s side, Whitefield had spoken to this con- 
gregation of God’s gathering, like an immortal plead- 
ing with immortals, until its cruel mirth had been 
hushed in tears, and the poor soul, ready to perish, 
had gone trusting and praying into the great darkness. 

But his hour was now over, and he sat like a 
prophet who has delivered his message, and who feels 
all the weakness and limitations of his humanity. 
The scene through which he had just passed made 
him exceedingly sorrowful ; the trembling criminal, 
the indifferent officials, the brutal savages of civilisa- 
tion pressed hopelessly upon his consciousness, and 


144 


WILLIAM BOUVERIE’s ANGER. I45 

he sat dumbly quiet under their influence. But spir- 
itual reaction in Whitefield’s case was generally rapid ; 
he soon remembered how, with the Gospel on his lips, 
he had moved these outcasts to tears and prayer ; and 
his face grew luminous, and his eyes beamed, and 
with a radiant smile he rose to his feet, saying con- 
fidently : “ Thank God, it is not George Whitefield ! 
it is Jesus Christ, and he is sufficient.” 

At this moment the door of the room opened, and 
he turned his face toward it. Madame Bouverie and 
her grandson entered, madame leaning on Harry’s arm. 
Whitefield understood at a glance that his visitors were 
not of the ordinary sort, and madame’s perceptions 
were equally clear. She said to herself instantly, “ This 
is one of the sons of God.” For Whitefield had 
turned to her with all the enthusiasm of his last reflec- 
tion lighting his countenance, and his tall, graceful, 
beautiful presence, his frank, easy carriage, his holy 
eyes, his tuneful voice, made him the very realisation of 
a young prophet. Madame was also much impressed 
by the exquisite purity and neatness of his attire, and 
by the spotless order of his room, and for a moment 
she was silent. But as Whitefield led her to his own 
chair, she said, ere she sat down : 

“ Mr. Whitefield, I am the widow of Nicholas 
Bouverie, and this is my grandson. Sir Harry Cress- 
well.” 

“ The name of Nicholas Bouverie is well known to 
me,” answered Whitefield. “ It is well known to all 
who honour large charity, wisely bestowed.” 

“ Among the Dissenters it is indeed honoured, sir.” 

Whitefield smiled happily. “ Among all who call 
themselves after Christ,” he said. “ Charity is above 


146 


BERNICIA. 


creed. Charity cares nothing for the penfoldings 
which sects hold so precious. I am glad to see your 
face. In what way can I be your servant ? ” 

“ Sir, in a matter of life and death. My grandson 
is under a bill of attainder and outlawry. He is even 
in your presence at the peril of his life.” 

Then Whitefield looked steadily at the young man, 
and Harry returned his gaze with a smiling confidence. 
The next moment they had clasped hands. The act 
came before the thought, but both men were satisfied 
with it. 

“ Your grandson is, then, one of Charles Stuart’s 
victims,” said Whitefield, and he grasped the situation 
with a clearness and rapidity that left madame little to 
explain. Yet, in that direct language wdiich was part 
of her character, she told, without excuses and with- 
out comments, the story of Harry’s mistaken life. 
Whitefield was much affected by it. “ Sir Harry’s 
fault,” he answered, “ was committed while he was 
but a boy, and it was really a question of obedience 
to his father or of treason to King George. There 
are many who would say a son at sixteen years of age 
should obey his father rather than honour the king.” 

“ Sir," said Harry, “ I have been with Charles 
Stuart since my majority, and so have sanctioned the 
treason of my boyhood.” 

“ My fault ! " interrupted madame. ‘‘ My fault en- 
tirely. The lad was without friends or money, and I, 
who ought to have long ago devised means to bring 
home my banished boy, thought neither of his suffer- 
ings nor of his necessities.” 

But, in this matter, how can I help you ? ” asked 
Whitefield. ** I go into the king’s closet with the 


WILLIAM BOUVERIE’s ANGER. 


147 


Word of the Lord. I can carry with it no meaner 
message. I am a preacher, and no courtier.” 

“ True,” answered madame. ‘‘But Lady Chester- 
field is a courtier. She is the king’s sister, and her 
words are very weighty with him.” 

“ And you think that I can persuade Lady Chester- 
field to plead Sir Harry Cresswell’s cause ? ” 

“ We think you can, if you will consent to do so.” 

“ I will. I will see her this afternoon. What can 
Sir Harry Cresswell do for himself ?” 

“ Nothing.” 

“ What can you do for him ?” 

“ I have no worldly influence that can be of service. 
I can but pray.” 

“ Well, madame, we fight and fail ; we work and 
lose our labour ; we reason, and no one believes our 
report ; but the praying legions were never yet known 
to yield. Prayer is heaven-besieging and heaven- 
opening.” 

“ I am too weak for such prayer. My heart is a 
nest of doubts and fears.” 

“ That is the devil. Let him do his worst ! He is 
only a mastiff chained.” 

“ Alas, that his chain is so long ! He has worried 
and barked all over and all through my life, sir.” 

“It is his use and wont. Good Bishop Bunyan’s 
Pilgrim found him straddling over the whole breadth 
of the way ; but, nevertheless, he was no match for 
Christian. Strengthen yourself in the Lord. This 
afternoon I will begin suit for Sir Harry’s full pardon 
and release.” 

“ And if God’s mercy fail not, you will obtain it.” 

“ It never fails. The end of one mercy is the 


148 


BERNICIA. 


beginning of another, or we should be undone. You 
shall hear soon from me, madame," and then he 
looked at Harry and said : 

“ Happy are they who can turn their double suffer- 
ing to double praise. While you are yet young, sir, 
take straight steps and stand, a man, in your grand- 
father’s place.” And, as he held the youth’s hand, 
one all-conquering glance of truth drew their hearts 
together. 

In promising to move that afternoon in Harry’s 
affairs, Whitefield had not spoken inconsiderately. 
He knew there was to be a religious meeting at Lady 
Huntington’s, and that Lady Chesterfield would be 
present. When her heart was humble before a God 
she had offended, and tender in the sense of his for- 
giveness, it would surely be a good hour to induce 
her to ask mercy for Harry Cresswell. The political 
side of the question seemed of small importance to 
Whitefield, for whatever he did, he did for eternity ; 
and its vastness absorbed his perceptions of the 
“ things that are seen.” It was not as an adherent of 
either Charles Stuart or King George that he regarded 
Harry, but as a hopeful young soldier of the King of 
kings. Saved from the scaffold, inheriting the re- 
ligious tendencies of one side of his family and the 
chivalrous self-sacrifice of the other, what great things 
might not be hoped from a youth who had been tem- 
pered in such stormy and sorrowful scenes ! 

It was thus he pleaded Harry’s cause with Lady 
Chesterfield, and she could not resist his eloquence. 
All her arguments, all her reluctances melted away in 
the fervent heat of Whitefield’s advocacy, though she 
said, with a touch of irritability : “ It is useless to 


WILLIAM BOUVERIe’s ANGER. 149 

reason longer with you, Mr. Whitefield, for in your 
mind the world above has so completely displaced the 
world below that you never take into account the 
things that relate to this life, nor have you any fitness 
for it.’’ 

Broad as was this assertion, it was practically true. 
The fret and folly of the court, the anger or pleasure 
of the king, were things George Whitefield did not take 
into account. It appeared to him a heavenly thing to 
show mercy, and he supposed George II. would be 
glad of a wise opportunity to do so. It was not 
indeed of intent, but of that conscious wisdom which 
is common to children and good men, that he finally 
said the few words which decided Lady Chester- 
field. They related to Madame Bouverie’s dead 
husband, and to his munificent gifts to the city of 
London. 

At the mention of these things. Lady Chesterfield 
tapped her left hand approvingly with her right, and 
a smile of encouragement lighted up her grave, strong 
face. She saw at once the importance of this informa- 
tion, for she knew the king was anxious to please the 
Dissenters, and that he would not be likely to slight 
any good opportunity to conciliate so large and 
powerful a body of his subjects. 

“ This good Nicholas Bouverie,” she answered, 
“ will be of great service to his grandson. I think, 
indeed, Mr. Whitefield, that he and you and I are 
sufficient to obtain His Majesty’s grace. For he is 
in a religious mind at present, and also very favour- 
able' to you, sir. Let me tell you, however, that the 
less said about the Stuarts the better.” 

“ I do not think that the young man has any love 


BERNICIA. 


150 

or respect left for the Stuarts. He does not desire to 
speak of them.” 

“ Oh, indeed, I know not. It is plain to me that 
even the most sober-minded Englishmen dream as 
Jacobites, though they may act as Hanoverians.” 

Moved by this reflection. Lady Chesterfield for 
a moment half repented herself of the promise she 
had made, and Whitefield understood that the subject 
could not be wisely continued. He therefore turned 
the conversation to the right of sanctuary in Westmin- 
ster, and was warmly advocating its proposed aboli- 
tion when Lady Huntington joined them. Then 
there was a dish of tea, and a hymn sung, and the 
preacher walked slowly in the summer twilight back 
to his lodging. 

He was doubtful of the ultimate success of his 
intercession. Lady Chesterfield had manifested some 
weariness and impatience, and he hardly dared to 
hope the king would accept the loyalty of the 
Bouveries as security for the allegiance of the Cress- 
wells. The uncertainty of the affair depressed him 
as he passed through the dim streets, but when he 
reached his own room there were candles burning on 
the table, and their light fell upon the white pages of 
his Bible. Then he smiled at his fears, and he sat 
down and laid his hand broadly across the open book. 
It was an actual and tangible reassurance to him. 

My Lady Chesterfield was soon weary of poor 
Cresswell’s affairs,” he said, ‘‘but I cannot weary the 
Great Advocate. It was not to the anxious and 
sorrowful he forbade ‘ repetitions.’ She counted back 
also to the sins of the young man’s fathers, but God 
never yet said to a suppliant, ‘Whose son art thou ?' 


WILLIAM BOUVERIE'S ANGER, 15 1 

So then, I will venture all on God, for he is sufficient 
for all." 

Humanity, however, is capable of giving us agree- 
able surprises. On the third day after this interview, 
Whitefield received the following letter from Lady 
Chesterfield ; 

Dear Mr. Whitefield : 

The king has listened very graciously to my entreaties regard- 
ing young Cresswell ; and instructions to set aside the bill of 
attainder against him have been sent to the secretary on such 
affairs. But it will be well to have the king’s grace publicly con- 
firmed by Cresswell’s personal homage to His Majesty ; therefore 
bring him to-morrow to St. James’s Palace about the hour of noon. 
Colonel Lacy has promised to meet you at the brick gateway, and 
to be your introduction to the presence chamber. I shall enter 
with the king, and you may rely on my seconding any reasonable 
advances, for you must understand, sir, that as regards Cress well’s 
estate, much will depend upon this interview. I hear there is 
but bad news from Ashley, and that Lady Huntington has gone 
there in haste. 

Remember in your prayers, 

Your willing servant, for Christ’s sake, 

Melusina Chesterfield. 

This letter was put into Whitefield’s hand just as 
he was preparing to go to Kennington Common, but 
he hastily wrote some further instructions to Harry 
and sent them by a messenger. Then in a kind of 
exaltation he hastened to his appointment. Thou- 
sands were sitting on the grass waiting for his words, 
and he stood up in their midst and spoke until the 
the twilight and the moonlight blended. In that 
mystical glow his tall, impassioned figure realised 
every conception of a man of God, as he reasoned of 
righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come, 


152 


BERNICIA. 


until he was borne away with his hearers in one deep 
flood of rapturous adoration. 

In Bloomsbury Square Lady Chesterfield’s letter 
did not find such favourable conditions. William 
Bouverie was in his private room ; Claire visiting 
a maid who was sick in the upper part of the house ; 
and George Abney just leaving for a debating society 
of which he was a member. Harry accompanied him 
to the door, and then stood a while on the upper step, 
looking wistfully into the world. He was thinking 
how much better it might be to throw all the past 
behind him and begin life anew in the American 
colonies, when Whitefield’s messenger gave him the 
letter. He read it, and to his own great amazement 
felt no elation ; but rather a composure that was 
almost indifference. The mood was a natural re- 
action, but he did not understand it in this light ; he 
simply wondered at his sudden depression, and then 
hastened to the parlour to tell the news to madame. 

Madame also had a letter in her hand. It was from 
Bernicia ; and the girl had enclosed in it a few stars 
of woodruff. Their delicious perfume was a delight 
to madame, and she was fingering the dainty stems 
with a smile as Harry approached her. Ere she 
could speak he was at her knees reading to her the 
happy words. Then she clasped his face between 
her hands and kissed him ; and the woodruff stars 
dropped from her fingers, but their heavenly fragrance 
scented the memory of those moments forever. 

At madame’s age, however, joy wearies, even while 
it exhilarates, and she soon felt a longing for that 
solitude where only God is ; so Harry was left 
alone in the dim parlour with his good news, It was 


WILLIAM BOUVERIE'S ANGER. 1 53 

not until Claire returned to the room that he realised 
how great a part she had in his anxieties and hopes. 
Claire had been latterly shy and reserved, and Harry’s 
dreams of the American colonies had been far more 
induced by this fact than by the uncertainties of his 
position. When she perceived that madame had 
retired she became instantly fluttered and nervous ; 
and, with some remark about a lost thimble, was going 
to leave the room again. But Harry intercepted her. 
He showed her the letters from Lady Chesterfield and 
George Whitefield, and without further explanations 
said : 

“ The king has pardoned me ! I am to see him 
to-morrow. Oh, Claire ! Claire ! the king may give 
me life, but you alone can make life worth living. 
Claire, speak to me. Say one word and I will fall at 
your feet ! Do not go away from me. Sweet Claire ! 
say one word, or my joy will be turned into sorrow.” 

She stood before him, blushing and trembling ; a 
little woman transfigured by an emotion she scarcely 
dared to acknowledge ; and too shy to lift the love-lit 
eyes that would else have betrayed her secret. Sweetly 
silent, yet tremulous with a rapture never felt before, 
she must speedily have yielded a confession to Harry’s 
exigent importunity had not William Bouverie inter- 
rupted his suit. He came in for the usual evening 
prayers, his mind still struggling with the worldly 
matters he was trying to forget. A glance at Harry 
and Claire was sufficient. He knew instantly that 
one of the dearest projects of his life was in danger, 
and a sudden and uncontrollable anger overruled 
both reason and feeling. 

“ Ingrate ! ” he cried, as he stepped passionately 


154 


BERNICIA. 


between the lovers, “Traitor and ingrate a thousand 
times ! ” 

Harry met the accusation with an indignant protest. 

“ I have done nothing a gentleman may not do.” 

“A palpable lie, sir! You are making love to 
Claire ! Yet you know that she is a great heiress, that 
she is my ward, and the promised wife of another 
man.” 

“I know nothing about Claire’s money ; and if she 
was the king’s ward, what is that to me ? As for her 
dead father’s promise to another man, I shall seek from 
her own lips the word that will make her mine.” 

“ I gave you shelter at the risk of my reputation 
and my estate, and you repay me by stealing the 
most precious thing in my house. In the same fashion 
your father stole away my sister Frances ! ” 

“ My father and my mother have passed beyond 
your judgment,. sir.” 

“You are right so far. In all other respects you 
are wrong, and you know it.” 

“ I know that I love Claire, and that right or 
wrong, I will try to win her ! ” 

“Your presumption is incredibly wicked. Land- 
less, homeless, nameless, what will you give her in 
exchange ? Your poverty and your misfortunes ? I 
am confounded by your impertinent conceit, sir ! In 
short, there is an end to the subject. You shall see 
Claire no more ! ” 

“ That is as may be. I am confounded, uncle, by 
your want of generosity. What right have you to 
insult me for my poverty and reproach me for my 
misfortunes ? ” 

At this moment madame entered the room. She 


WILLIAM BOUVERIE'S ANGER. 155 

was in a temper quite equal to her son’s, but she had 
it better under control ; and her enforced calmness 
not only gave her an air of invincible authority, but 
also cooled the quarrelling men like a blast of icy 
wind. She advanced with a deliberate resolution and 
laid her hand upon her son’s arm. 

“William,” she said, “it is time for prayer, and I 
find you wrangling with Harry on your own hearth- 
stone.” 

“ Look you, mother, you do not know all.” 

“ Claire has told me.” 

“ Harry has been making love to Claire ! ” 

“ I dare say ! they are both of a piece. Claire 
doubtless has been making love to Harry.” 

“ It is impossible ! ” 

“’Tis quite possible. ’Tis almost certain. Take 
my word for it.” 

“ Claire is already engaged. She is incapable of 
coquetry ! ” 

“ Pho, pho ! No woman is. Every word to the 
contrary is a pack of nonsense. Be silent, William, 
until you can be reasonable. And supposing Harry 
has been making love to Claire, what then ? Claire 
is much honoured in his devotion.” 

“ I pray you, mother, to have some regard for my 
feelings. Consider Claire’s great wealth.” 

“Consider Harry’s noble birth.” 

“ Tush! ” 

“ William ! ” 

“ Pardon my passion, mother. I am forced also to 
remember my nephew’s disgrace and poverty.” 

“ Harry is no longer in disgrace and poverty.” 

“ Had my uncle given me time ” 


156 


BERNICIA. 


“ I am speaking for you, Harry. If your uncle had 
given you time he would have heard that the king had 
pardoned you.’’ Then again addressing her son, she 
added : “ Any Christian man would rejoice in this 
news. I say ‘ Christian,’ William, hoping that you are 
one.” 

“ If the news be true, I am glad of it for Harry’s 
sake. It does not alter matters at all, regarding 
Claire. Her father left positive instructions for her 
marriage with Mr. Hutton’s son, and I shall see that 
she carries them out to the last letter. We want ” 

“ We want nothing to-night but a little decent 
thankfulness and six-penny worth of common sense. 
I consider this an unnecessary and unpleasant conver- 
sation, and I care not how soon I finish it. Give me 
your arm, son William, I will go to my chair now ; and 
you, Harr}^, ring for the men and maids. They are 
waiting to pray, and we are preventing them by our 
disputing.” 

And as the stern law of dyty was an ever-present 
consciousness to William Bouverie, he fulfilled with- 
out remark all that pertained to it ; all that the hour 
demanded. But though he selected the psalm of 
gratitude suitable to the occasion, and the hymn 
madame specially approved, he was sensible that every 
nobler feeling of his nature had “ undergone the 
earth,” and as soon as possible he went away to the 
covert of his private parlour. For he was deeply 
wounded by his mother’s attitude. All his life long 
he had served her faithfully, and never at any time 
grieved her, and yet when it had come to an issue 
of such gravity, she had pointedly and passionately 
espoused the cause of his opponent, a youth whom she 


WILLIAM BOUVERIe’s ANGER. 157 

had known but a few weeks, and who had, even within 
their short space, given her many disappointments and 
anxieties. 

For two hours he sat rigid, his face sternly set, 
his eyes heavy with tears. Then he heard George 
return, and he called the young man to him, and they 
talked over the affair until the early summer dawn 
began to break. William Bouverie pointed it out, and 
rose with a great sigh. 

“ George,” he said, ‘‘if I were punished for my faults 
as severely as I am generally punished for my kind 
deeds, I should be one of the most unhappy of 
mortals.” 

This reflection sprang from a heartache, for he was 
learning a lesson usually studied under a sense of 
wrong or injustice, that kindness begins in purpose, but 
that love is of pure favour, often given without rea- 
son or desert ; reaping where it has not sowed, and 
gathering where it has no right, but that of partiality 
and grace. 

George considered the desponding words for a few 
moments, then looked up at the brightening east. 

“ Sir,” he answered cheerfully, “ it is a divine neces- 
sity to love, and we do kindness for God’s sake, hoping 
for nothing again, and Dr. Young is surely right in 
saying : 

“ ‘ It never was loving that emptied the heart, 

Nor giving that emptied the purse.’ ” 

William Bouverie took the words into his own 
troubled heart, and the men parted with a smile. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


Harry’s pardon. 

At eleven o’clock next morning Harry was at Mr. 
Whitefield’s lodging. He found the preacher dressed 
in full canonicals, waiting for him, and he was much 
impressed with the dignity which the black silk gown, 
the lawn sleeves and bands, and the close white wig 
imparted to his tall figure and beautiful countenance. 

The morning was dull and gray, and exceedingly 
sultry, and the premonitory hush of a coming storm 
was noticeable in the depression of the usually noisy 
streets. Fortunately, the rain did not begin to fall 
until they were within the great court next to Pall 
Mall. Here, at the head of the grand staircase leading 
to the rooms of state, they were met by one of the 
lord chamberlains, who led them past the guardroom, 
and so to the privy chamber, where he said His 
Majesty would presently come. 

There were a few nobles in waiting, but the gloom 
of the storm, which had now broken, was so great that 
they looked more like the phantoms of a dream than 
living men. In the vivid lightning their swords and 
glittering stars, and buckles, and orders flashed and 
darkened ; but their stolid silence and the clamour 
of the elements without gave them an air of mys- 
tery, unhappy and unfriendly. Only Mr. Whitefield 
seemed superior to their surroundings, and it was well 
158 


Harry’s pardon. 


159 

for Harry that he was in touch with a spirit so cour- 
ageous, so serene, and so hopeful. 

The delay was not really long but the minutes were 
heavy with anxiety, and Harry was thankful when the 
stir of the royal advent became evident. The king 
entered abruptly, walking with a short, dignified step, 
and showing on his frowning, florid face decided signs 
of annoyance ; for the storm had interfered with his 
usual walk, and George II. liked to do the same 
things, at the same hour, every day of his life. 

He was accompanied by the Princess Amelia, the 
Duke of Newcastle, Lady Chesterfield, and a few 
officers of the household ; and as all of them had been 
made to bear a share of the king’s chagrin, the 
appearance of the group was not cheering. Lady 
Chesterfield, however, in passing Whitefield, gave him 
a glance full of encouragement — a glance also convey- 
ing a need for expedition, which was rendered intelli- 
gible by his previous conversation with her. For she 
had then said, Remember, if this matter ever come 
to handkissing. His Majesty will brook no delays 
and no explanations.” 

As soon therefore as the king had taken his seat 
under the canopy, Mr. Whitefield and Harry advanced. 
Harry, as a suppliant, knelt at a little distance from 
the chair, Mr. Whitefield standing at his side. The 
king immediately addressed Mr. Whitefield. 

“ How do you do, sir ? It is a big storm. Who is 
this young man that you bring to me ? ” 

“ Sire, it is the grandson of your liege servant the 
late Nicholas Bouverie. The young man has no 
earthly hope but in your mercy. For Christ’s sake, 
then, have mercy upon him.” 


i6o 


BERNICIA. 


“ Yes, yes, I have heard. I have heard a great deal 
about the grandson of this Nicholas Boiiverie.” Then 
addressing Harry, he inquired sharply : 

What is your name ? ” 

“ If it please your Majesty, my name is Harry 
Cresswell.” 

“ Where was your estate ? ” 

“ In Northumberland, sire.” 

“ When was it granted to your family ? ” 

King Stephen enfeoffed my ancestor on the battle- 
field, sire.” 

For a moment King George steadily regarded 
the kneeling youth. The mention of King Stephen 
and the battlefield did more for him than the charity 
and loyalty of Nicholas Bouverie ; for George had 
himself borne arms, and borne them bravely ; and this 
suppliant youth was a soldier. Some subtle fellow- 
feeling touched the sovereign’s sentimental heart. 
He looked down at his sword, and then his glance 
wandered to the nobles, who were intently w'atching 
the scene. Instantly every hand was at a hilt, but it 
was Lord Rashleigh who first flashed his blade from 
its scabbard, and taking it by the point, presented it 
to the king. There was a slight movement, and then 
the royal words of pardon : 

“ Rise^ Sir Harry Cresswell I ” 

“God save King George!” cried Harry, standing 
up with a happy face. The king gave him his hand 
to kiss, and then went quickly into an adjoining draw- 
ing-room. 

The dreaded interview was over, and Harry 
looked at Mr. Whitefield with a gratitude neither the 
place nor his own feelings permitted him to fully 


Harry’s pardon. 


i6i 


express. For they lingered in the stately presence 
chamber until the storm had passed, and a glint of 
watery sunshine picked out gloriously the gilded 
initials of Henry and Anne Boleyn, above the great 
chimney-piece. In the carriage it was possible to 
speak freely, and more than once Harry was on the 
point of losing control of himself in the natural emo- 
tion that surged within him for expression. Had he 
been alone, he would doubtless have wept with all 
the abandonment of a boy ; for the sense of relief 
was, at first, almost painful. His wise friend under- 
stood this. He made no “ opportunity ” of the occa- 
sion, nor did he remind him of his obligations. But 
he did remember that Harry had neither eaten nor 
drank that day, and he compelled him to rest half an 
hour in his room and take some refreshment. 

Harry was then able to talk with composure, and he 
desired to walk back to Bloomsbury, for he longed to 
be in motion, and was sure the confinement of a car- 
riage would irritate him. But Whitefield was not in- 
clined to sanction this quick exposure of his person. 

Your pardon is not two hours old,” he said ; “ it 
will not be known to the general public until the 
newspapers make it so ; if then you have any enemy, 
he may yet take advantage of your past.” 

I have but one enemy in the world,” answered 
Harry, “ and I am thankful to say he is safe in the 
Fleet prison.” 

This remark elicited the whole story of Allan Cress- 
well’s treachery ; and Harry told it with a freely 
expressed and contemptuous animosity. Frequently 
Whitefield looked at the young man, and on the 
preacher’s face there was a look of mingled sorrow and 


i 62 


BERNICIA. 


anger. Finally, he stooped to the Bible that lay open 
on the table, and began rapidly to turn its leaves. The 
action was not sympathetic, and Harry brought his 
story to a close, and rose to depart. Then Whitefield 
said to him : 

Sir Harry Cresswell, there was in old Jerusalem a 
man who owed ten thousand talents, and because he 
had nothing to pay " — here he lifted the Bible and 
began to read from it — “ ‘ The Lord of that servant 
was moved with compassion, and loosed him, and for- 
gave him the debt. But the same servant went out, 
and found one of his fellow servants which owed him 
a hundred pence, and he laid hands on him, and took 
him by the throat, saying. Pay me that thou owest.’ ” 

“ Sir,’' answered Harry, “ I thank you.” 

There was no ‘advice given and no promise made, 
but each felt that of a certainty there would soon 
be one prisoner less in the gloomy old prison. 

Harry had thought he would like to walk to 
Bloomsbury, but, once on the way there, he found 
that even two horses did not take him fast enough. 
The memory of Claire, as he had seen her for one 
moment the previous night, filled him with a joy that 
would not brook patience, and the words he intended 
to say to her went through his heart like wine. Now 
also, that he was quite alone, he began to realise 
the wonderful transition in his circumstances. He 
had come out from the shadow of death ; he was 
noble, and not an alien ; he was rich, and not poor ; 
he might woo the girl he loved without fear and 
without favour. He could not reason about these 
things ; he could only feel them, and he was soon in a 
state of mental intoxication. But what of that ? Is 


Harry’s pardon. 


163 


not the folly of the passions often more lovable and 
tolerable than the wisdom of repose and prudence ? 

The first sign of his condition was the frantic speed 
to which he urged the driver. Claire, who had been 
walking monotonously up and down her room for 
hours, heard the gallop of the horses and the impa- 
tient summons at the closed door, and divined what 
it meant. The great suspense was over, and she 
threw herself upon her bed and wept for joy. 
Madame, listening with beating heart, had the same 
conviction ; she trembled, and could not rise, though 
she desired to do so. In a few moments, Harry 
was holding her hands, and she was drinking in his 
exclamations and his enthusiasm. 

“ I am my own man again ! I am free ; I am 
happy ! I am Sir Harry Cresswell, re-enfeoffed by the 
king’s grace. God save the king ! ” And between 
every sentence he kissed away the tears of joy that 
wet her cheeks. 

“ But where is Claire ? Claire ! Claire ! ” he called, 
and then became silent, and looked around the room, 
with a face suddenly fallen and disconsolate. “ Where 
is Claire, dear grandmother ? ” 

“ You cannot see Claire. She has orders to remain 
in her room until you leave the house. Ah, child, no 
cup of joy is without its bitter drop ! ” 

“On my soul, it is too bad ! ’Tis a cruel order, 
and my uncle is a cruel fellow to give it. This is the 
only happy day I have known for years, and he turns 
its joy into sorrow. Send for Claire ! ’’ 

“ I have not the power.” 

“ I will write her a letter.” 

“ It cannot be given to her.” 


164 


BERNICIA. 


“ My uncle takes this way to bid me leave his 
house ? ” 

“It is true. But you have now your own house, 
and the sooner you go to Cresswell the better.” 

“ I shall not go to Cresswell until I have seen 
Claire. Will you tell her all I have told you ? ” 

“ Surely I will.” 

“ ’Tis a sad ending to a glad hour. Only you are 
faithful to me. George has of late been cold and shy, 
and last night my uncle was both insulting and cruel. 
It is time I went. Do not cry, dear. I wonder not 
at the parting ; the wonder is, we have lived so long 
together.” 

“ Where are you going, Harry ? ” 

“ First of all, to my sisters. Fanny will tell me of 
a proper inn.” 

“ Very good. But you must have money for your 
expenses. Lawyers and commissioners will be to pay. 
You will have fees and vails to give. You will have 
clothing to buy, and a thousand necessities that only 
gold can meet. My child, I am your banker. Here is 
five hundred pounds for your present requirements. 
No thanks, no thanks ! Your happiness is sufficient.” 

“ My dear grandmother, my dear mother ! ”' 

“ My dear child ! You are the last and sweetest 
love of my life.” She stroked his hair, she kissed 
him fondly, and then bade him throw his large 
cloak over his court suit, and hasten to his sisters. 
“ Someone,” she said, “ will have carried the news to 
Richmond, and they will be impatient to see you.” 

“And Claire?” 

“ Claire will come to me when you are gone. She 
will weep, I dare say, but I shall try to comfort her. 


Harry’s pardon. 165 

I will tell her how handsome you look, how gracious 
the king was, and ” 

“ And how broken-hearted I am. And how entirely 
I love her. And that I will make ways and means to 
see her, though I die for it. And that I shall feel the 
want of her, in every hour of my life, in all my joys 
and in all my pains, whether I wake or sleep ! ” 

“ I promise not so much, Harry. Why ask it ? ” 

“ Because I am no longer myself without Claire. 
Indeed, I cannot, cannot go without seeing her.” 

“ You may go at once, for you will not at this time 
see her. The force of circumstances is against you, 
Harry, and resistance to that force is vain. Good-bye, 
my child. If your dear name comes, even by chance, 
to my lips, I shall say, ‘ May it be blessed ! ’ How 
will you go to Richmond ? ” 

“ The carriage is waiting. It will take me to the 
Arundel stairs, and a couple of oars will shortly pull 
me to Richmond.” 

“ Then again, good-bye, Harry. Always be loving 
and true and brave ; ” and a tender light from under 
her wet eyelashes shone upon him until he passed 
out of sight. 

At that hour madame suffered a fresh bereavement. 
The splendid house was cold and silent, and life itself 
was empty and dark without Harry. But Harry, in spite 
of his disappointment concerning Claire, was glowing 
with a constantly increasing excitement. Everything 
was beautiful, wonderful, full of joy, and the promise 
of joy. The lonely, bloody memories of the past ; 
the base ingratitude, “ the slings and arrows of out- 
rageous fortune,” the shames of poverty, the fears of 
death, all the black shadows of his miserable youth. 


BERNICIA, 


1 66 

were gone* forever. The sun was shining gloriously ; 
the gay city full of life and stir. The sounds of traffic 
and travel and pleasure filled his ears. Fair ladies 
caught a glimpse of his smiling face, and smiled as 
they passed him. He was so happy that he saw noth- 
ing but happiness wherever he went. 

The city also seemed to have burst into singing. 
Street hucksters of all kinds were singing their wares. 
Chairmen, waiting to be hired, were singing ; porters, 
with their burdens on their shoulders, were singing ; 
watermen on the river stairs, waiting for the cry of 
“ First Oars,” were singing, and it was the same 
simple, merry little melody. Harry caught its music 
as he passed along and wrote it on his heart. It 
seemed a part of his happiness, or, at least, an acci- 
dental that fitted into it. 

Going up the river he met many pleasure barges 
with tilts of canvas or of green boughs. They were 
full of merry company ; and the music of their flutes, 
and fiddles, and voices followed Harry all the way. 
It was a fairy scene, an enchanted journey, and he 
was like one who dreamed, until the oars stopped at 
the wharf belonging to Wildermere House. “ A crown, 
sir ! a crown, sir ! ” cried the boatmen, and Harry 
answered, “ I will break no gold this day ; a sovereign 
is little enough.” The men laughed boisterously in 
their pleasant surprise and put off the boat, crying 
back their .thanks, and so down the river with a 
roar of song about “ the girls in our town.” 

Harry found himself on a gravelled walk shaded by 
hazel bushes and bordered with London pride and 
polyanthus. It led him into a garden' which might 
have been brought from Holland — a garden of pyram- 


Harry’s pardon. 


167 


idal yews and treillages of square cradle walks, with 
windows clipped in them ; of brilliant flowers and 
great green beds of mint, and thyme, and camomile. 
A house of white stucco with Ionic pillars and a wide 
portico was soon visible, and as he came near to it he 
heard the sound of clinking glass and of merry con- 
versation, and saw through the open windows Lord 
Pomfret and his sisters Fanny and Bernicia. He 
heard Bernicia cry “ Harry ! ” He leaped the low 
window sill, and the next moment Lady Pomfret was 
embracing him. Indeed, theare was such a tumult of 
rejoicing that he could not at once realise it. Lord 
Pomfret was calling for more wine and another ser- 
vice ; Lord Rashleigh was on his feet with a shout of 
welcome, and the great beauty. Miss Arabella Darner, 
was raining sympathetic smiles and vowing to Lord 
Rashleigh “ that she envied his sisters most com- 
pletely.” 

“ You are the hero of the day, Harry ! ” cried I.ady 
Pomfret, and she kissed him again and wept a little, 
then laughed at herself for weeping. 

Upon my word you are the fashion, sir ! ” laughed 
Lord Rashleigh. “ I would gladly be a rebel myself 
to be so sweetly forgiven.” 

Then Harry bowed as well as his sister’s clinging 
affection would permit, and answered joyfully, “ Ten 
thousand thanks, my lord, for the honour you did me 
this morning. In faith, I shall feel your sword on my 
shoulder as long as I live, for its touch went to my 
heart.” 

“ Look you, Fanny,” interrupted Lord Pomfret 
“ here is a hot dish or two, and fresh bottles of port 
and pomard. Let the young man eat and drink. 


i68 


BERNICIA. 


I’ll warrant it will suit his stomach better than 
kisses.” 

“ Fie ! fie ! my lord,” said Miss Darner, affecting a 
pretty anger ; but she made room for Harry at her 
side, and he was glad of the hot dishes and wine, and 
ate, and drank, and talked, while the ladies smiled 
and adored him, and the gentlemen questioned and 
passed the bottle. 

Now there are fortunate moments in which mortals 
do and say precisely the right thing, and Harry, 
following the impulse of a generous and grateful 
nature, found such a happy time. For when Lord 
Pomfret called fresh glasses to toast the new baronet, 
Harry said : 

Good, my dear brother, but first let us drink to 
the king, and then we will drink to Mr. Whitefield, and 
afterward I shall find more honour than I deserve.” 
And Lord Pomfret was delighted with the loyalty and 
modesty of his proposal. So they stood up to drink 
the king’s health, and then to Mr. Whitefield’s name. 
Harry told the story of Madame Bouverie’s interces- 
sion and the quick sympathy and ready help of the 
preacher. 

As he did so a gentler spirit quieted the company. 
Bernicia and Lord Rashleigh looked thoughtful. Lady 
Fanny sighed, and Miss Darner said, “ it was a mercy 
she was not in the way to meet that heavenly Mr. 
Whitefield, or she would certainly turn Methodist,” 
while Lord Pomfret sipped his wine and explained 
how the king two weeks gone had nearly choked to 
death with an imposthume, which had broken favour- 
ably while Mr. Whitefield was in the royal bed-chamber, 
and thus His Majesty was yet in a religious mood and 


Harry’s pardon. 


169 


kindly disposed to Mr. Whitefield, so that Sir Harry, 
he concluded, “ could not have chosen a luckier time 
nor a more powerful friend.” 

Thus quite unwittingly the good name sobered the 
company, and they rose from the table and looked 
out into the garden, which in the warm twilight was 
in the very height of all its sweets. Lord Rashleigh 
took Bernicia’s hand and said softly, “ The moon is 
just rising ; let us walk to the riverside and cool our- 
selves a little.” And then Harry turned to Miss 
Darner, and she called for her India crape shawl and 
taught him how to fold it round her throat, and so 
looked into his face and down at his hands till he was 
in a flush and flutter of pleasure, and ready to kiss 
the pretty feet she vowed were ^‘too thinly shod for 
aught but dancing a minuet.” 

“ Oh, you are very delicate, Arabella ! ” said Lady 
Pomfret, “you are sweetly delicate ; but the ground is 
dry and there is no harm in the breeze and the moon- 
light. Be good enough to remember, however, that 
in fifteen minutes tea and coffee will be served in the 
drawing-room, and the boy is now ordering the tables 
and laying out the cards and the counters.” 

“ But will you not come with us for the fifteen min- 
utes, Fanny ? ” 

“ La, my dear ! you can all be fools without my help. 
I pray you have some pity on my poor brother. You 
have slaves enough to your charms without this 
conquest.” 

“Fanny, this is extremely unhandsome of you. 
Your brother would be the greatest conquest I shall 
ever make.” Then Miss Darner courtesied to Harry, 
and he gave her his arm, and Lady Fanny watched 


170 


BERNICIA. 


them disappear among the green-hedged walks, and 
then turned to her husband, who was enjoying his 
pipe of Virginia. 

“Is he not handsome — wise, modest, witty?” 

“ He is your brother, Fanny.” 

“ And with what good taste he is dressed ! Who 
could have chosen for him that suit of rich black 
satin ? No tinsels, no embroideries ! As for the 
marvellous lace of his tie and ruffles, I am sure they 
came from Grandmother Bouverie’s treasures. But 
nothing could have been more suitable than his whole 
costume. Harry is as fine a gentleman as ever Eng- 
land bred.” 

“ Fair and softly, my dear. Harry is not without 
faults.” 

“ Say what you will, he may have a new mistress. 
It is easily seen that Arabella is passionately taken 
with him.” 

“ Hang it, Fanny ! You talk of nothing but love. 
Did not Bernicia tell us Harry was far gone with the 
little Dissenter ? ‘ The sweetest woman ever the sun 

shone on,’ she said.” 

“Yet for all that, I should not wonder if the 
charming Arabella teaches him to forget.” 

“ Nothing is a wonder in love.” 

“ Everything is a wonder in love.” 

“ Look you, Fanny, let me smoke my pipe in peace.” 

“I told them to be back in fifteen minutes, but I’ll 
warrant the fifteen minutes grows to half an hour.” 

“If it does not, they are much to blame. Two 
handsome fellows and two lovely girls, moonlight and 
flowers, and the boats on the river — Jove, Fanny ! we 
have been guilty ourselves in the same kind. Do you 


Harry’s pardon. 


171 

remember that night at Lady Hervey's — that night I 
asked you to marry me ? We were lost two hours in 
the garden. Until then, I had thought myself to be 
the wisest of men.” 

^‘My dear John, you may yet safely think so ; ’tis 
well known that men of sense make the best fools in 
the-world.” 

“Well, then, Fanny, I am still blessing myself for 
my folly. I hear singing.” 

“They are coming up the holly walk, and Bernicia 
and Rashleigh are singing ‘ Nancy Dawson.’ ’Tis a 
very taking air.” 

“ ’Tis my utter aversion. I am sick to death of it.” 

“ ’Tis as good as another. But why should people 
sing, when they can talk more sensibly ? ” and she has- 
tened to the drawing-room, and cried to the company 
to “hurry,” and so singing and laughing and ex- 
claiming they obeyed her. But as soon as Bernicia 
entered the room, she sat down and began to play, 
and as the tea was poured and handed round, the 
song was merrily continued : 



none like Nan-cy Daw - son. Her eas - y mien, her 


172 


BERNICIA. 


i 




d 

i IS— 1 




m • i I 





t— d N- 

1 j [/ 

d~ ^ 9 

W - 

V 

/Z S g ^ 

4 — — 1 — ^ 

u y 


shape so neat, She foots, she trips, she looks so sweet. Her 



• 1 




r 


jft 1 


1 


1 

iUr 1 


p 1 



^ — 

r m J 

! j— 



1 





— y — 

hj” 

— r # 




rl 


1 y— J 




u — y 

# 

• • 

tl 


ev - ’ry motion is complete, I die for Nan-cy Dawson. 


Now people say a great deal in song that it would be 
difficult to say in conversation ; but Lord Rashleigh 
was in very earnest, and “ Nancy Dawson ” was to him 
only another name for Bernicia Cresswell. So he 
threw his soul into the protestation : 

“ I die for Nancy Dawson ! " 

and looked into Bernicia’s face for some answering 
light. 

It was at this moment that George Abney entered. 
He had hastened to congratulate Harry, had put 
aside all selfish considerations, and put down all the 
small jealousies that arose out of the situation and 
which naturally made his heart sore. For he had 
certainly been the first mover in Harry’s redemp- 
tion. He had taken a long journey, he had given 
freely his time, and gold, and affection. He had 
placed himself in a position which made him liabL to 
fine and imprisonment, he had brought the outlaw 
into domestic relations which had caused him many 
small worries and annoyances, and he was by no 
means sure that his sister’s happiness was not seriously 
involved in Harry’s future ; and yet others had 
reaped all the honour and gratitude he might justly 
claim. 


Harry’s pardon. 


173 


That in life it is the usual way for one to sow 
and another to water, and another more favoured to 
reap the result, made it no easier for George’s con- 
sideration. His first glance at Bernicia and Lord 
Rashleigh convinced him that all his prosaic labour, 
and giving, and endurance, was but the sowing and 
the watering ; Rashleigh had but flashed his sword 
into the king’s hand, and then ridden post-haste to 
Richmond with the news, and yet he evidently had 
the love and gratitude of the occasion. Indeed, it 
seemed to George that not even Mr. Whitefield re- 
ceived his due. Bernicia truly said : “ Mr. Whitefield 
has been indeed a saviour to Harry,” but her beam- 
ing eyes, her radiant smile, and the little intelligent 
nod of her head all appeared to give to Lord Rash- 
leigh far sweeter acknowledgment. For George’s 
kindness was of long ago, and Mr. Whitefield was 
absent, but Lord Rashleigh was the benefactor of 
the hour. And it is the present good we honour, the 
grace of the past is forgotten, the grace of the future 
not sure. 

But the most wise of all the virtues is a calm 
patience, and, fortunately, George was able to affect 
it, for he did not deceive himself. He knew well, 
though everyone was very kind to him, no one would 
have missed him, or cared had he been absent. His 
visit was a mistake ; happiness could do without him. 
This position was all the more felt, because both his 
principles and his ignorance put him outside of the 
ordinary shows of happiness. Cards he had been 
taught to abominate. The capers of the jig or the 
country dance, and the graces of the minuet, were 
alike outside of his inclinatipn and his ability. And 


174 


BERNICIA. 


as Lord Pomfret hated to play cards with women, 
he was well pleased to talk with the young merchant 
on politics and commerce. 

This, however, was not the kind of pleasure George 
had coveted. He had hoped to find the ladies 
and Harry alone. He had messages from madame 
and from Claire to deliver. There was a certain duet 
he loved to sing with Bernicia, and he had been hum- 
ming it to himself all the way up the river. In some 
direction or other, he was sure that the evening would 
give him happy opportunities with her. He intended 
also to have a reasonable talk with Harry concerning 
his sister Claire ; for to be brotherly with Bernicia’s 
brother was one of the strongest desires he had. 

All these hopes had dwindled to the discussion with 
Lord Pomfret and the spectacle of Bernicia playing 
whist or dancing a minuet with Lord Rashleigh. 
Instead of being one of the chief actors in the unusual 
joy of the hour, he was a mere spectator. Even 
when the mirth resolved itself into teaching Harry a 
minuet, and Miss Damer showed him how to hold her 
hand, and Lord Rashleigh how to take the step, and 
Fanny and Bernicia laughed at his mistakes, George 
was supposed to be fully entertained in discussing 
with Lord Pomfret the excessive duties on Russian 
imports. 

At midnight supper was served, and George was 
seated at Bernicia’s left hand. She was very gracious 
to him, but then she was also very gracious to Lord 
Rashleigh, who sat at her right hand, and who con- 
stantly spoke of persons and things necessarily un- 
known to George. This marked exclusion angered 
the young merchant, but he preserved an apparent 


Harry’s pardon. 


175 


unconsciousness of it. Already he had learned that 
they who suffer with patience suffer less. However, 
in the confusion which accompanied the retiring of the 
ladies, Bernicia gave him her hand, with a smile that 
put all resentment out of his heart. 

“ I have many messages for you,” he said, “ but I 
have found no opportunity to give them.” 

“ It has been such a stupid evening,” she answered. 
“ I suppose Harry has enjoyed it. I am sure no one 
else has. What time do you leave in the morning ?” 

“ My boat will wait at nine o’clock. Shall I see 
you at all ? Can I hope for five minutes of your com- 
pany alone? ” 

“ Do you rise early ? I am often in the holly walk 
about eight o’clock. Good-night, sir ! ” 


CHAPTER IX. 


THE QUARRELSOME DISEASE. 

The hope contained in Bernicia’s words, though 
hurried and indefinite, made the night tolerable to 
George, and in the morning Bernicia redeemed it. 
She had no hesitation in doing so. She felt certain 
Lord Rashleigh would sit the night far out with her 
brother and brother-in-law over the cards, and then 
sleep until near the noon hour. Fanny would just as 
certainly take her chocolate in bed ; and as for the 
servants, they would either be about their duties or 
looking after their personal comforts. 

It was an exquisite morning, and George was a 
lover whom the morning suited. The daytime, with 
its sense of duty to be done, and its air of real life to 
be lived, fitted his noble wooing. Bernicia could not 
walk with him and feel the clasp of his hand and 
listen to his strong, sweet voice, and remain unmoved 
by his beauty and eloquence, his ardour and his truth. 

Undoubtedly she was coy and variable, most un- 
certain of her own heart, and very little disposed to the 
life to which a marriage with George Abney would bind 
her. But George Abney, apart from his own environ- 
ment, and considered only as a lover, was strongly 
attractive. There was a manliness about his wooing 
far more pleasing to Bernicia than the elaborate 
courtesies and compliments of fops and courtiers. 

176 


THE QUARRELSOME DISEASE. 1 77 

So this morning she let George both feel and see her 
preference ; and when he bade her farewell at the head 
of the flight of stairs leading to the river, it was with 
a happy and confident face. His boat lay at the foot, 
and the men at the oars were singing “ Nancy Daw- 
son " as they waited for him. 

He stood for a moment or two watching the van- 
ishing figure of Bernicia, and when he turned to the 
river Lord Rashleigh was just leaving his boat. A 
quick sense of impending trouble assailed George, 
and his first impulse was to arrest his soul and bid it 
consider and be careful. This impulse naturally in- 
duced a deliberate manner, and the two men met 
about the middle of the flight. Rashleigh’s manner 
was full of passion ; he looked defiantly at George, 
and said, in a menacing tone : 

“ Well, sir?” 

“ Well, sir,” answered George, with assumed non- 
chalance. 

“ I will thank you, Mr. Abney, to keep out of my 
way.” 

“ I will not go one hair’s breadth out of my way to 
avoid yours. Lord Rashleigh.” 

“ The devil take your impudence, sir.” 

“It is for you to take, not for the devil.” 

“ You shall hear from me, sir ? You shall hear 
speedily from me.” 

“ I shall count it no honour to hear from you. Lord 
Rashleigh.” 

George had been gping quietly down the steps 
during the conversation, and as he spoke the last 
words he stepped into his boat. 

“ A noisy stave and a crown for it,” he said to the 


178 


BERNICIA. 


men, and thus to the first stroke of their oars they 
trolled loudly out the last line of the verse they were 
singing : 

■ “ I die for Nancy Dawson.” 

George had purposely seated himself with his back 
to his rival, but at these opportune words he turned 
his face to Lord Rashleigh. And Lord Rashleigh 
found in its expression an intolerable offence. He 
was sure George was mocking his singing of the same 
words on the previous night ; that he was mocking 
his passion, and the way he had chosen to express it ; 
and no words could have so infuriated the angry 
lover. 

It was, however, impossible to say anything more 
at that moment, and he told himself that his answer 
should go on a sword's point. With this resolve he 
glanced into the shade of the holly walk. As he 
expected, he saw the flutter of a dress, and he went 
forward with hasty footsteps. Bernicia turned as he 
approached, and for a moment her beauty conquered 
his anger. She was as fresh as the morning in her 
white dimity gown, her scarlet shoes, her little gypsy 
bonnet tied under her chin, and her necklace of coral 
and gold beads. 

“Good-morning, Lord Rashleigh !” she said, with 
a beaming smile ; and then, seeing the anger on his 
white face, she dropped her eyes and pretended to be 
fastening one of the coral and gold clasps of her 
open bodice. He put his hand firmly, almost roughly, 
on her shoulder. 

“ You are false as you are fair ! ” he cried. “ Why 
are you out so early this morning ? ” - 


THE QUARRELSOME DISEASE. 1 79 

'Twas my humour, and I mostly follow my 
humour.” 

“ You came out to smile and sigh that silly young 
Abney into a fool’s paradise.” 

“ What then ? ” 

“ You have driven me to the end of my patience.” 

“ You- have been there before, Lord Rashleigh — very 
often.” 

‘‘Twenty times last night, when we were singing, 
when we were dancing, you looked love at me. Love 
was in your smiles, your touch, your words. This 
morning you have the same smiles and words for Mr. 
Abney. I have believed your coyness and uncertain- 
ties to be an innocent girl’s modesty and ignorance of 
love. I believe in you no longer. I trust you no 
longer. I love you no longer.” 

“ I thank you. Your love has been a tedious, 
troublesome affair. Remove your hand from my 
shoulder. I saw you last night biting your thumb 
at my friend, Mr. Abney, and this morning I warned 
him of your temper, for ’tis a vile one — that is ‘ why.’ ” 

“ I care not for the ‘why.’ As for Mr. Abney, my 
temper is to make cold clay of him before another 
sunrise.” 

“ Two can play at that game.” 

“ x\nd*I promise you with a vengeance ! Insolent, 
trading fellow ! ” 

“ You are absurdity itself. Your talk is ever of 
killing someone. A man that can do nothing but 
bully and threaten is a ridiculous animal. George 
Abney is your master at every point. Will you please 
to go, sir ? lam horribly tired of your swaggering.” ^ 

“ So false ! So cruel ! ” 


i8o 


BERNICIA. 


‘‘ If you said anything pleasant you would lose your 
speech.” 

“ I am distracted ! I have neither patience nor 
wisdom left ! ” 

A nice account to give of yourself. You are 
becoming a disagreeable creature. When will you 
go?” 

Do you care, if I go to my death ? I swear you 
will not give me a thought.” 

They why go to your death ? ” 

“ Because my love for you ” 

“ You have said you no longer love me.” 

” My honour ” 

“ As for your honour, if it lies in barking and biting, 
you are honourable indeed. Such ‘ honour ’ is too 
subtle for my understanding.” 

“ To-morrow by this time ” 

“ I suppose you will have eaten Mr. Abney ? ” 

“ To-morrow by this time ” 

“ To-morrow come never ! ” and with the con- 
temptuous disclaimer sho turned from him and went 
deliberately back to the house. As soon, however, as 
she was within its shelter, she fled like one distraught 
to Lady Pomfret’s room. 

” Sister Fanny ! Sister Fanny ! ” she cried, throw- 
ing herself on her knees by the bedside, ‘‘*1 am the 
most miserable creature ! I am undone ! Send me 
back to Cresswell ! I entreat you, send me back ! 

“ What is the matter with you ? ” asked Lady Pom- 
fret, who was idly drinking her chocolate in bed, and 
who was both startled and angered by these sudden 
exclamations. “ What is the matter ? Your airs and 
passions, Bernicia, grow beyond a joke. Do you want 


THE QUARRELSOME DISEASE. l8l 

to be the talk of all the footmen and wenches in the 
town ? ” 

“ Lord Rashleigh and George Abney are going to 
fight a duel.” 

“It serves you right. Twenty and twenty times 
I have told you either to stick to one lover or to have 
a dozen. Two are most dangerous. They are ever 
ready to cut each other’s throat. How did this thing 
come about ? ” 

“ The morning is so lovely, and the flowers, and the 
sunshine ” 

“ Oh, miss, let the flowers and the sunshine pass, 
and come to the men. Pray where have you been 
this ‘ lovely ’ morning ? ” 

“ I but walked with George Abney to the steps at 
the river side. He must have met Lord Rashleigh, 
but what they said to each other I know not. Rash- 
leigh followed me in a bitter passion, and with many 
impertinences vowed he would challenge Mr. Abney 
to-day.” 

“ We cannot have a duel in the family at this date, 
Bernicia. It is too late, and too early. Had it been 
in May, it would have set your fame on the four winds 
of heaven, but the town is now empty, and the affair 
will be stale after a nine days’ wonder.” 

“ Lord Rashleigh will kill George ! Oh, Fanny ! 
Fanny ! ” 

Fiddle-de-dee ! ” and at this moment Harry, fully 
dressed, and with his hat in his hand, came into the 
room. His face was shining with hope and pleasure, 
and he said with a laugh : 

“ I have only time to salute you, Fanny. Lord 
Rashleigh is to take me to his tailor, and then intro- 


i 82 


BERNICIA. 


duce me at White’s, and the Cocoa Tree. But what 
is the matter ? ” 

“ Matter enough, Harry. Here is word of a duel 
between Lord Rashleigh and George Abney, and 
nothing could be less desirable.” 

Then all the light went out of Harry’s face, and he 
sat down and looked angrily at Bernicia. “Your 
fault, miss ! ” he said. “ I am sure it is. I have seen 
your ways with your lovers. You lift them to the 
skies one day, and you snap your fingers at them the 
next. Let me tell you, your coquetries of last night 
are like enough to be my ruin. It was in your pres- 
ence Lord Pomfret told me to keep very much out of 
sight and hearing until my papers were signed, sealed, 
and delivered, and you have taken this way to put my 
name in everyone’s mouth. What now is the king to 
think of the Cresswell family ? If Lord Rashleigh is 
killed or wounded for Mi^s Cresswell’s vanity, he 
will be wroth, for Lord Rashleigh is much in his 
favour. If George Abney is your victim, then the Dis- 
senters — who look upon the young fellow as a very 
David — will make no end of petitioning for the pun- 
ishment of Lord Rashleigh. In either case the name 
of Cresswell must come up as an offence to His Maj- 
esty. You have behaved cruelly to me, Bernicia.” 

“ And to Lord Pomfret, also,” said Fanny dolor- 
ously ; “ for there will be plenty to remind the king 
that my lord married one of the Cresswell family. 
As for my unhappy self, I do not pretend to guess 
what I am to say to Lady Chesterfield and her set. 
They will turn up their demure eyes, and speak from 
the summit of their whites about the wickedness of 
the girls of the age, and I am without an excuse. I 


THE QUARRELSOME DISEASE. 183 

hope now, you have done plenty of mischief to satisfy 
you, miss.” 

How can you find it in your heart to scold me, 
Fanny ? You know that Lord Rashleigh has a temper 
like touch-wood. Cross him by a look, and he is on 
the ran-tan in a moment.” 

“ Then you ought not to have crossed him by half 
a look,” said Harry. “ And I am sorry for George 
Abney, though I have no doubt he will die hand- 
somely. He is made throughout of the finest 
fibre.” 

Then Bernicia began to sob bitterly, and Fanny 
said : “ Perhaps you had better go to Lord Rashleigh, 
Harry. For your sake he may pass by the affair.” 

“ I would not ask him a favour to save my life. I 
am sure he is in the wrong. First and last I shall 
stand by George Abney. He stood by me when I 
was in very shame and necessity.” 

“Besides which,” said Fanny scornfully, “ George 
has a fair sister.” 

“ It is most true, though I thought not of her at the 
moment, and that is a wonder, for she is in all my 
thoughts.” 

“ This is nothing to the subject. Someone must 
go to Lord Rashleigh and induce him to save his 
anger till a better season. If he will not, all that was 
done yesterday may be undone.” 

“ Then, Fanny,” pleaded Harry, “ you must get Lord 
Pomfret to see him. For God’s sake, sister, for my 
sake, for all our sakes, a delay at least must be insisted 
on. If the king’s mercy be not perfected, I am in a 
worse case than before. I ^am plunged in despair 
again.” 


184 


BERNICIA. 


Lord Pomfret played all night, Harry. He is now- 
in deep sleep. His man would as soon wake a bull of 
Bashan. But he is ever dressed by noon, and then he 
is usually good tempered. At that hour I can persuade 
him, doubtless.” 

“ Bernicia,” cried Harry, driven to desperation, “ I 
say you have behaved most cruelly to me.” 

“ Bernicia,” said Fanny, echoing his mood, ** you 
have often behaved selfishly, and often foolishly ; this 
morning you have managed to do both.” 

“ I am not fit to live, Fanny, if all that Lord Rash- 
leigh says, and all that Harry says, and all that you 
say of me, is true. However, 'tis a Heaven’s mercy 
that I keep my own good opinion.” Her face was 
burning with indignation, her head lifted proudly, and 
with these words she went haughtily out of the pres- 
ence of her brother and sister. 

Perhaps she was neither as troubled nor as angry as 
she affected to be ; or else the humour was as evanes- 
cent as her moods usually were, for as she passed 
along the corridor she stood at an open window and 
smiled as the glory and sweetness of the sky and the 
garden welcomed her. Not that she consciously took 
these things into her consideration, — women had not 
then learned to regard the whole visible world rela- 
tively to their emotions and their destiny, — it was 
simply that Nature was warm and sweet and pleasant, 
and her influence comforting as a smile would have 
been ; so that she instantly began to take a more 
cheerful view of her perplexities. 

If everything went just as it ought to go, there 
would be nothing to talk about,” she thought. ‘‘ I 
will speak to Tarset, she generally finds out a way. 


THE QUARRELSOME DISEASE. 1 85 

This resolve was not unwise, for Tarset belonged to 
that elemental class of women whose first instinct in 
every trouble is to stop crying and help themselves. 
And she had long apprehended this trouble. Fre- 
quently she had said to Bernicia : “ If your two lovers 
were from the North Country, they would have been 
playing broadswords ere this.” So she listened with 
great interest to Bernicia’s tale, and Bernicia told it to 
Tarset with far more circumstance than she had told 
it to her sister. She expected also more disapproval, 
but Tarset’s opinions were based on the moral aspect 
of the question, and not on its social consequences. 

“ It is a bad job, miss,” she answered, “ but I don't 
see that you are to blame for Lord Rashleigh's jealous 
temper. And ’tis a thousand pities you cannot learn 
to understand yourself better ; though, to be sure, men 
ought to give a girl time. Marrying is living together 
for fifty years, happen. I should think one year for 
trying and choosing is none too much.” 

“ And 'tis scarce half a year since we came to 
London. But that is not the question now. For 
Harry’s sake, and for all our sakes, this duel must be 
prevented. How ? My wise brother-in-law may see 
Lord Rashleigh before it is too late ; and he may not 
see him at all.” 

“ I shouldn’t trouble with Lord Rashleigh, miss. 
He dashes and bounces at everything. I would get 
word to Mr. Abney. It takes two fools to fight a 
duel, and if Mr. Abney is as wise as I think he is ” 

“ I will not do anything to put Mr. Abney in the 
wrong. Mind that, Tarset ! ” 

‘‘ He will not do anything to put himself in the 
wrong. You may be very sure of that, miss. SencJ 


BERNICIA. 


1 86 

me to London. I can maybe manage this business a 
bit better than you can.” 

“I shall eat my heart out with anxiety until you 
get back, Tarset.” 

“ Well, miss, I must say, you have earned a bit of 
anxiety. You are as cruel as a cat with your lovers, 
and in teasing them you have gone all lengths. I am 
sure I don’t know why you do so.” 

“It is my way, Tarset, and I like my way.” 

“Yes, miss. And ’tis perhaps a Heaven’s mercy 
that they who will go their own way always come 
back by Weeping Cross.” 

“Scolding is nothing to the business in hand, Tar- 
set. And there is not a moment to lose. Why are 
you not hurrying ? I know that you are bent on see- 
ing Mr. Abney, then go at once to my Uncle Bou- 
verie’s wharf. Here is the address.” 

But though Tarset took the address, she did not go 
to the Bouverie wharf. She went straight to Mr. 
Whitefield’s residence. The preacher had gone out. 
“ He was perhaps at the Tabernacle, or at the old 
Bailey Prison, or at Mr. Fletcher’s house.” There 
was no certain knowledge of his movements, and Tar- 
set said, “I shall wait here until he returns.” 

It was three o’clock before he did so, and the anx- 
ious woman was trembling with fear and impatience. 

“ Mr. Whitefield, sir,” she jcried, as soon as he 
appeared, “ I am sick to death waiting for you * 
Oh, sir ! there is a great thing for you to do, or all you 
did yesterday will be undone.” 

Then she told her story with as much haste and 
clearness as she could, for she thought there was an ex- 
pression of dissent or impatience on her listener’s face. 


THE QUARRELSOME DISEASE. 


187 


“ What is your name ? ” he asked. 

‘‘ Jane Tarset, sir. I am Miss Cresswell’s servant 
and friend, from her birth hour.” 

“ Then Mistress Tarset, what do you think ? Is it 
right for me to leave the preaching of Jesus Christ 
that I may take a part in such a wicked, senseless 
quarrel ? Greater preachers than I — even the 
Apostles — said it was not reasonable to leave the 
word of God though it were to serve tables for the 
poor and needy.” 

“Sir, the Apostles were always a bit above the 
Master. He served tables. Five, and ten thousand 
people at a time took their bite of bread and fish 
from his hand. And this is a greater question than 
fish and barley bread ; it is, happen, one of life and 
death. As for preaching Christ, sir, I shouldn’t 
wonder if you did not find two or three in Blooms- 
bury Square needing the Gospel just as badly as the 
two or three thousand in Moorfield’s Tabernacle. 
You have put your heart and hand out to save the 
Cresswells, and I would not draw them back now, sir, 
if I were you.” 

“ I will not draw back, Mistress Tarset. Where 
shall I be likely to find Mr. Abney at this hour ? ” 

“ Most likely he will be at the house in Blooms- 
bury.” 

“ Then I shall go there.” 

“And I wouldn’t waste any time, sir. I do not 
think there is any time to waste.” 

The message on which he was now sent did not 
please Mr. Whitefield for many reasons. He could 
not think it was in the way of his duty ; he felt it 
rather to be a kind of imposition. He had other 


i88 


BERNICIA. 


pressing and pleasant engagements. His mind was 
fully bent on a meeting which was to consider the 
school for his orphanage, and this question was one 
lying close to his heart. 

“When God’s way goes with my own way,” he 
sighed, “ how easy it is to take it ! ” 

Even when close to his destination he wondered 
whether it might not be the best wisdom to turn back. 
And as he was a man of vivid and vital emotions 
these restless thoughts and questionings impressed his 
countenance and his manner, so that he went into the 
house with that peculiar air of authority through 
which a man says plainly, “ This is an unpleasant affair, 
but it is my duty, and I intend to do it.” 

He was led to the state parlour. George Abney was 
sitting at a table, and a young gentleman in deep 
brocade and embroidery, a tye wig, and lace ruffles, 
was standing opposite to him. Between them, on the 
shining surface of the highly polished wood, lay a 
broad white letter. George’s face was slightly lifted 
to his visitor, but its expression was calmly contemptu- 
ous, though he was listening with a semblance of 
politeness. 

Mr. Whitefield understood the position at a glance, 
and he required no introduction to the young mer- 
chant. Advancing rapidly he said : 

“ Mr. Abney, I perceive Lord Rashleigh’s foolish 
challenge has arrived. On no account must you 
accept it.” 

“ Sir,” said Lord Rashleigh’s friend, “ it is one of 
the follies of this day that makes your face so familiar. 
And your interference in this matter, sir, is an imper- 
tinence ! ” Then touching the letter with his sword’s 


THE QUARRELSOME DISEASE. 189 

point, he turned with a scornful bow to George, and 
said : “ Mr. Abney, I wait your answer to this, sir.” 

But before George could answer Whitefield took 
the small Bible which he habitually carried, from his 
breast, and put it upon the challenge. 

“ Mr. Abney,” he cried, lifting his hands and his 
face to Heaven, “there lies God’s eternal law : Thou 
shalt do no murder. If you dare to take Lord Rash- 
leigh’s challenge from beneath it, do so.” 

Then George rose to his feet. He was moved with 
indignation against the man who had forced him into 
such an equivocal position, and he said, with a pas- 
sionate scorn : 

“ Mr. Dorrington, say to Lord Rashleigh, if he is 
tired of life, George Abney bids him hang or drown 
himself. He has no inclination to humour his jealous 
temper.” 

“ Sir, by every law of honour you are bound to meet 
Lord Rashleigh.” 

“ It is a beggarly law of honour that walks not with 
the law of God, nor even with the law of the country. 
I will none of it ! ” 

“ Are you afraid of the Methodist’s book ? ” 

“ Mr. Dorrington,” said Whitefield sternly, “ let me 
remind you that your ancestors thought it worth their 
while not only to read the Methodist’s book, but also 
to fight for the right to do so.” 

“ I am not here to discuss my ancestors with you, 
Mr. Whitefield. Give me an answer to Lord Rash- 
leigh’s challenge, Mr. Abney, or I shall write you 
through the town a coward.” 

“ I would be a coward, indeed, if I permitted any 
man to taunt me into a duel about Miss Cresswell. 


190 


BERNICIA. 


For her honour or her life I would lay down my own 
life. Her love she has the right to give to whom she 
will. Do you think I would go in the dusk, behind 
Montagu House, and fight any man for it ? I will not, 
sir.” 

The last words were partially lost in the bustle and 
noise of someone, whose approach, though unseen, con- 
veyed the idea of power and pomposity. A moment 
afterward Lord Pomfret and William Bouverie entered 
together. 

“ Mr. Dorrington,” said Lord Pomfret, in a loud 
voice, “ your servant, sir ! I hear you are the bearer 
of a very silly bit of paper. Pray, where is it ? ” 

The eyes of all present fell instantly upon the white 
paper, but no one spoke, and no one offered to remove 
the book. The small black Bible lay there with an 
authority none dared to dispute ; and Lord Pomfret 
turned to Mr. Whitefield and said : 

Sir, I am most gladly your servant. I have long 
desired to know yon, and I think you and I are here 
on the same errand. Is that your book, sir ? ” 

“ It is my Bible, Lord Pomfret.” 

“ The challenge is beneath it ? ” 

It is.” 

“ Then the book has kept the peace, I see. Heartily, 
and from my soul, I thank it ! But, as matters now 
stand, sir, you may remove it ; for I am a magistrate, 
and can look after this foolishness.” 

Then Whitefield lifted his Bible with a reverent 
tenderness, and replaced it in his breast ; and Lord 
Pomfret immediately seized the letter beneath it. He 
held it a moment in his large, dark hands, and then, 
with a frowning, scornful face, slowly tore it into shreds. 


THE QUARRELSOME DISEASE. 19I 

While this little scene was in progress, George was 
giving William Bouverie, in a few whispered words, 
the assurance he desired ; and Mr. Dorrington was 
speaking, with some passion, about his “ principal’s 
honour,” and the satisfaction that would be demanded. 
This tirade Lord Pomfret did not at first answer, 
though the increasing temper and provoking delibera- 
tion with which he tore up the paper was perhaps the 
most aggravating of all replies. When he had flung 
to the floor the last scrap, he turned fiercely to the 
young man : 

“ Body of me, Mr. Dorrington ! ” he cried ; “ if I 
hear another word about this silly affair, you will find 
that I can make London very unpleasant for you.” 

“ My honour. Lord Pomfret.” 

“ Honour ! Plonour ! What honour is there in fight- 
ing about nothing at all ? Is my sister-in-law’s name 
to be a peg for a couple of fools to air their ‘honour’ 
on ? By the Lord Harry, no ! I shall ask His Majesty 
to stand such men of honour a few hours in the pillory. 
Then where will their ‘ honour ’ be ? ” 

“ That is a good thought. Lord Pomfret,” said 
William Bouverie. “ Such a punishment for the 
braggarts of honour would soon put a stop to duelling.” 

Lord Pomfret bowed in reply, and turning to 
George, said : “ Mr. Abney, Lord Rashleigh has been 
persuaded by me to consider Sir Harry Cresswell’s 
and Miss Cresswell’s highest interests, and to forego, 
for their sakes, the satisfaction he might personally 
desire. I hope, for the same reasons, you will accept 
this decision, sir.” 

“ I have already refused to fight Lord Rashleigh.” 

“ Oh-h-h-h ! Then I might have spared myself 


192 


BERNICIA. 


much trouble. In short, Mr. Dorrington, there is an 
end, you see, to your preposterous little mission ; and 
we may all bid you good-evening. I will meet you at 
noon to-morrow in White’s, and your prudence and 
silence will not find me ungrateful.” 

Such affairs will leak out. Lord Pomfret ; and 
people will not spare to say ” 

‘‘To be sure, they will say anything. But, if there 
is any ‘ leak out,’ I shall know whom to blame ; and 
you will not find me indifferent.” With these words 
he turned to Mr. Whitefield and William Bouverie, 
and said, with a shrug of his big shoulders : “ What a 
troublesome play is life ! And yet, one has to act the 
farce out to the very end.” 

Then Mr. Dorrington, with elaborate courtesies, 
took his departure, and Lord Pomfret said “he also 
must make a hurried return to Richmond, as the 
ladies were anxious, and Sir Harry in a gloomy temper, 
as it stood to reason they well might be.” 

“ I have already sent assurances that no duel shall 
take place. Lord Pomfret,” said George Abney, and 
though it was precisely what the nobleman desired, he 
turned from the young man without either thanks or 
approval. 

Unfortunately the messenger sent by George to 
Richmond went into a tavern for a drink of ale, and 
drank himself to sleep, and thus it happened that 
Lady Pomfret, Bernicia, and Sir Harry spent some 
very long, unhappy hours. For Tarset’s news was 
neither positive nor reassuring, and Lord Pomfret did 
not reach home until the night was growing near to 
midnight. Lady Fanny had wearied herself with 
wondering and complaining, and was lying on the 


THE QUARRELSOME DISEASE. 193 

sofa half asleep. Sir Harry was walking on the gar- 
den terrace in the moonlight, and Bernicia talking 
with Tarset in her room, when all alike heard the 
clatter of the returning carriage and the strident 
echoes of the master’s voice. He came into the room 
in the most pleasant manner, and his first words dis- 
sipated every fear. 

“ ’Tis a mercy I went, Fanny,” he cried, kissing his 
wife’s pretty face, “ else I do not know what would 
have happened. Two more bloody-minded men I 
never saw. By faith ! I have a riddle for you. Who 
did I dine with ? Guess ?” 

His Majesty.” 

George Whitefield.” 

“ John Pom fret ! ” 

And your Uncle Bouverie. And the very noble 
old lady, your grandmother. And that angelical crea- 
ture whom Harry adores. And the young Methodist, 
George Abney. As for the dinner itself, it was per- 
fection. Such meats, and sweets, and wines ; such 
silver and crystal and fine damask. If His Majesty 
ever again asks me ‘ How these Dissenters have grown 
so great?’ I shall tell him to go to your Uncle 
Bouverie’s and see on what meat these our Caesars 
feed.” 

During this speech Bernicia came into the room. 
She was in a loose white gown, and had a scarlet 
Canton crape shawl folded across her shoulders. Her 
long black hair was uncoiled and her face pale with 
anxious waiting. She listened to her brother-in-law 
with impatience, and as he ceased speaking asked : 

“ But what of the duel ? Is there to be a meeting 
or not ?” 


194 


BERNICIA. 


‘‘ The challenge had been sent when I saw Lord 
Rashleigh, thus the time of my visit was very favour- 
able. For I have ever found that men who are mad 
to fight before the sending of the challenge take a cold 
fit as soon as the paper is beyond them. Lord Rash- 
leigh was therefore reasonable. He consented, for 
Harry’s sake, and my sake, and all our sakes, to keep 
his wrath warm for a twelvemonth. As for Mr. Abney, 
he had no thought of fighting. He must have slain 
every principle he had before he could have drawn 
his sword in a private quarrel.” 

“ Sister Fanny,” laughed Bernicia, “ this is a very 
pretty farce. Let us call it ‘ Much Ado About 
Nothing.’ ” 

’Tis your own farce, Bernicia, made for you, call 
it what you like.” Then turning to her husband. 
Lady Fanny asked, “ What took you to Bloomsbury, 
John ? ” 

“After leaving Lord Rashleigh I thought I might 
as well see your Uncle Bouverie, and so went to his 
warehouse. Mr. Abney had not been at business that 
day, and Bouverie was instantly in a hurry to reach 
his house in Bloomsbury. He asked me to go with 
him, and I, feeling inclined to see the matter out, did 
so. We found Lord Rashleigh’s second, young Dor- 
rington, already there ; also Mr. Whitefield. The 
challenge had been offered, but not accepted. It lay 
upon the table between the men, and Mr. Whitefield’s 
Bible was upon it. By Heaven ! there was not a man 
of us, Fanny, who cared to lift the book and take the 
paper from beneath it. I wonder who sent the 
preacher there ! ” 

“ I sent Tarset to Mr. Abney and she went to Mr. 


THE QUARRELSOME DISEASE. 1 95 

Whitefield,” said Bernicia. “ I bless myself for doing 
so. It seems the Methodist preacher was a match for 
two courtiers and two merchants. On my honour, 
swords ought to go out of fashion ! ” 

Lord Pomfret laughed heartily and answered, “ My 
dear little pepper-corn, do not set your words to 
biting. Mr. Abney stood bravely by his principles, 
and Lord Rashleigh was not afraid to fight. Expedi- 
ency, Bernicia, expediency. It makes all kinds of 
fools sensible men sometimes. As for young Dor- 
rington, he will hold his tongue for a consideration, 
though it may cost me a losing game or two and a 
place in the Foreign Office.” 

“ Do you think Mr. Whitefield will name the sub- 
ject, John ?” 

“ I did not even think it necessary to ask his silence. 
For an hour after dinner I heard him read and speak, 
and I wonder no longer at Bolingbroke and Chester- 
field and Pultney. The man is a miracle. I brought 
him to his lodging in my carriage, and, in truth and 
good faith, Fanny, if I were not a courtier I would 
turn a Methodist.” 

Will wonders ever cease ? There is nothing now 
left to be astonished at. If you are John Pomfret, as 
I suppose you are, swear at me a little, that I may be 
sure I have my senses. And now pray tell me what 
my Uncle Bouverie said to George Abney ?” 

“ He seemed to be well pleased with the young man, 
Fanny. I cannot say as much for your grandmother. 
She looked at him very strangely and said it was 
well for Lord Rashleigh that he had challenged 
George Abney and not her grandson. Sir Harry Cress- 
well. ‘ There would have been no put-off, and no let- 


196 


BERNICIA. 


off, in that case,' she said, and I vow, Fanny, the old 
lady cut her beef into small pieces with all the passion 
imaginable.” 

Harry smiled a little sadly. I fear grandmother 
is right,” he answered. I should have thought of 
myself first. George and Rashleigh thought of others 
first. Their nobility and bravery are beyond mine.” 

Our mountain has brought forth its little mouse, 
Fanny,” said Bernicia disdainfully, and we may now 
go to bed and to sleep.” But at the open door she 
paused, drew her scarlet shawl more tightly around 
her, and with an incomparable scorn in her face and 
voice added : 

“The two men are two cowards. I will never 
speak to either of them again.” 


CHAPTER X. 


bernicia’s interference. 

It is out of the past we must shape the present, 
and Bernicia could not escape this inexorable 
sequence. She vowed she would never speak to her 
lovers again, but it was beyond her power to dismiss 
by a resolution personalities that had become part of 
her own. Bernicia’s passions were Bernicia herself, 
and she would have been nothing without them. 
And Lord Pomfret’s description of the fitting fiasco 
filled her with rage. What right had these men to 
make her an excuse for their private tempers ? But 
having done so, what an impertinence to link her name 
with a “ shab-off,” for she could find no word so 
expressive as this North Country term for a cowardly 
retreat. 

To all her passionate invectives Tarset listened with 
sympathy. She disliked people without weaknesses, 
and generally found it easier to bear the follies of 
passion than the selfishness of prudence ; so Bernicia’s 
opinions about her lovers were not contradicted. She 
only said at every fresh accusation : It was just what 
might have been expected. What with one thing, and 
what with another, men were nothing but trouble- 
makers, and every woman, old and young, was bound 
to have trouble through them.” And finally this gen- 
eralising of the offence did bring some consolation. 


197 


198 


BERNICIA. 


It took the personal sting out of the girl’s chagrin. 
It is individual annoyances that are hard to bear ; 
when they become general they become tolerable. 

Yet some weeks of restless unhappiness followed 
this event. Bernicia knew that the private opinion 
of her relatives was very similar to her own, and it 
appeared to her they affected a quite unnecessary 
satisfaction in the result of their interference. Harry 
alone made no pretences. He admitted the necessity 
for this interference, but he also resented it. His first 
anger had been directed to his sister, but his real 
anger fell upon Rashleigh. The man had certainly 
done him a courtesy in the king’s presence, but Harry 
now understood that it had been done to further his 
own suit with Bernicia. Supposing, however, that 
the kindness had been quite unselfish, it had been 
cancelled by the selfishness of a quarrel so incon- 
tinent and imprudent. Harry could not think of 
Rashleigh without burning cheeks and tingling fingers, 
for he felt keenly that the morning of his new life had 
been clouded by Rashleigh’s thoughtless temper. 

Harry sent him no message. He did not trouble him 
to fulfil the engagements he had made. It was Lord 
Pomfret who introduced him to the clubs and coffee 
houses ; who took him to the court tailors and drapers 
and mercers ; who found him a fashionable lodging in 
London ; and who, in the space of one week, launched 
the recreated baronet upon the gay tide of pleasure 
which was beginning to flow again toward St. James’s 
and the court precincts. 

Indeed, Lord Rashleigh seemed to have forgotten 
that he had promised to fill this office. He was so 
madly in love that he could only think of Bernicis^ 


bernicia’s interference. 


199 


and of such events as related to her ; for, so far as she 
was concerned, all things had gone contrary to their 
seeming. His favour to Harry, and his breakneck ride 
to Richmond with the news of the pardon, should 
have brought his own suit the highest favour, and 
the supreme happiness of a delicious certainty. He 
expected as much. Alas ! all his hopes had ended 
in estrangement and disappointment. Bernicia re- 
fused to see him. She rejected his offerings and 
would not even answer his letters. 

In those days men of fashion and leisure had far 
fewer interests than at present, and they were also far 
more in earnest about the things which did interest 
them. Self-denial was a scarcely comprehended 
virtue in love affairs, and self-effacement still more 
unusual. A great passion entirely possessed them and 
drove every other subject out of consideration. 
Rashleigh thought of nothing but Bernicia. He 
could not eat, nor sleep, nor in any way amuse him- 
self. Even cards had lost their charm. He found 
nothing worth staking for. Bernicia’s face haunted 
him perpetually. He thought of her in a hundred 
different ways, but most of all, in that splendid mood 
of anger and contempt in the holly walk. To subdue 
this beautiful, imperious creature to his love and 
his will was the master passion filling his life ; to be 
cast off by her sunk him into the depths of burning 
despair. In such a condition, how could he care for 
Harry Cresswell’s lodgings and tailors and. social 
amusements ? 

It was perhaps as well he did not try to do so, for 
Harry evinced at once a disposition to order his life 
to his own liking. “ Your brother is as masterful as 


200 


BERNICIA. 


your lovely self, dear Fanny,” said Lord Pomfret to 
his wife, after a few days in Harry’s company. “ In 
faith, he may take his own way for me. I never saw 
a man with such a palpable will. It runs mother- 
naked through his every word and deed. I would not 
try to contradict him — unless I wanted to fight him.” 

“ It is the truth,” answered Fanny, with an air of 
satisfaction. “ That is the Cresswell way. Father 
was just so. Bernicia is not to be reasoned with. 
I have a pretty little will of my own, but you would 
not have the rudeness to wish it less, would you, 
John?” And ’Lord Pomfret instantly made the 
proper answer in the proper form. 

“ What has Harry been doing to-day, John ? ” 

“ The maddest thing he could do. He has taken 
Allan Cresswell out of prison, and sent him north 
with fifty pounds in his pocket. It cost me one hun- 
dred to put him in prison. Are you not going to be 
either angry or amazed, Fanny ? ” 

“I have used my temper upon the subject. I knew. 
Harry intended that very thing. George Whitefield 
told him to do it.” Then Fanny related the circum- 
stance, and Lord Pomfret listened with some curiosity. 

“ The Bible again, Fanny,” he answered. “ Depend 
upon it, there is some strange power in that book. 

I tell you, I could not lift it the other day, and I am 
no coward, I know ! Upon my word, I shall ask 
Bernicia to read it to me on some Sunday night. I 
am tired enough of romances.” 

“You will go to Lady Huntington’s the next thing. 
You will turn Methodist, and sing hymns with Bath 
and Chesterfield. Oh, John ! John ! I do not pre- 
tend to know what will be the consequences.” 


bernicia's interference. 


201 


“ Ask my enemies, they will tell you. Do you know 
that Lord Rashleigh is beside himself about Bernicia? 
The girl ought to be made to see him.” 

“ Will you make her ? ” 

“ Hang it, Fanny ! draw the line somewhere. I 
have the right to ‘ make ’ you. Can I do it ? Bernicia 
is beyond my right. I wonder if she will ever forgive 
Rashleigh ! ” 

“ Why not ? Women are angry with their lovers 
that they may have the pleasure of forgiving them. 
John, what think you of going back to town ? You 
know that I hate the country, and only came here to 
pleasure 

To pleasure me ! Now, Fanny ! ” 

“Do you not remember how you longed for the 
green fields ! ” 

“Green fields ! Why, I hate to put my foot down 
unless it be on a pavement ! ” 

“ And a boat on the river,” you said, “ and a quiet 
place among trees and flowers ! ” and she looked at 
him with such a charming defiance, as she made these 
assertions, that contradiction was as impossible as it 
was useless. 

Have it your own way, Fanny. I do not pretend to 
know what I think, or feel, or say,” and then he threw 
himself into a chair, pulled his long moustache, and 
burst into peal after peal of mirthful, mocking laughter. 

“ What is the matter with you, John ? Are you 
laughing at me, sir ? ” 

“ No, my dear. • I am laughing at women in 
general — thinking how you all go solemnly to church 
and promise to honour and obey, and never intend to 
do anything of the sort.” 


202 


BERNICIA. 


“ Then laugh again at the men, who are silly 
enough to think women may perhaps intend it. And 
wliile you are laughing, bless yourself also, John, 
because women do take their own w'ay, — which is 
generally a wise one, — instead of their husbands’ way, 
which is always a foolish one. Are you willing to go 
back to town, sir ? ” 

‘‘ It will be a great pleasure to return home.” 

“ Then stop in Piccadilly this morning, and swear 
at the men and maids a little. Tell them I shall be 
home in a couple of days. I feel in a hurry, John, 
for Harry alone in London ought to have someone to 
look after him.” 

“ Are you going to look after Sir Harry Cresswell ? 
You will have your hands full, I promise you.” 

“I look after Lord John Pomfret, and have my 
heart full,” and she crowned the words with a charm- 
ing smile and courtesy that swept her into his arms. 
So he kissed her fondly, and went away, and she 
waved her scarf to him at the turn of the road, and 
he walked proudly and happily to his boat, and went 
down the river humming : 

“ Drink to me only with thine eyes.” 

As soon as he had gone Bernicia entered with a 
letter in her hand. “It is from Claire,” she said, 
“ and I ought to go to Bloomsbury ; though to be 
sure, grandmother cares little who stops away, when 
she can see Harry.” 

“ But she cannot see Harry.” 

■ “On the contrary, Harry has called thrice this 
week to see her.” 


bernicia's interference. 


203 


“ Did not Uncle William forbid him his house ? ” 

“ He forbade Claire to see or speak to Harry. Noth 
ing could make uncle shut his door against a visitor 
whom grandmother wished to see. Evidently she has 
sent for Harry, and if Harry is disposed to visit her, 
he is sure to do so.” 

“ How unpleasant ! Well, Bernicia, we are going 
back to London on Thursday.” 

Then if it please you, Fanny, I will see Tarset 
pack my things to-day, and go into town to-morrow. 
I can stay with Claire until Thursday evening, and so 
escape the hurry, and worry, and scolding, and con- 
fusion of the change. And I do feel a little poorly. 
I do indeed, Fanny. I cannot bear much more at 
present.” 

“ So you will jump out of the frying-pan into the 
fire. The hurry and worry of the change are only 
surface troubles ; but at Bloomsbury, grandmother 
will put you through a ten hours' catechism, and 
Uncle William look a thousand disapprovals ; and 
Claire want sympathy enough to wear you out to the 
last shred. Besides, will not George understand your 
visit to mean a. desire for reconciliation ? ” 

“ Reconciliation indeed ! George is in Gloucester, 
or I should not go to Bloomsbury. George knows 
already that I shall never speak to him again.” 

“ That is absolute folly. You are a beauty, but you 
cannot throw your lovers about as if they were hazel 
nuts. To be sure, Thomas Darner is very much your 
servant, and he might take the place of George Abney. 
But Thomas Darner is not a desirable man for you to 
marry. Horses are all he cares for, and he is gallop- 
ping his fine estate away at a break-neck speed.” 


204 


BERNICIA. 


In marriage, money is only one thing.” 

“ It is a very good and great thing.” 

I shall marry for love, Fanny.” 

Very well, but love sensibly. However, our first 
consideration now is ‘ up to London town ’ ; and 
what a blessing we have London town to go to ! 
Once we are there, Bloomsbury follows naturally. 
Harry will also be able to tell us just what are the 
state of affairs there.” 

“I know how they are. Uncle William will be 
stern and grave, Claire sad and tearful, and grand- 
mother will scold a little. Claire says grandmother 
is always fretful on the days Harry does not visit 
her.” 

Do you think that Harry goes to visit her alone? 
Such a thing is not to be believed. Take my word 
for it, he sees Claire also.” 

“ I would take no one’s word for that — not even 
George Whitefield’s. Claire has given uncle her 
promise. She will keep her word, whatever happens.” 

“ Promises that make other people miserable ought 
not to be kept. Just think of poor Harry ! ” 

‘‘ Uncle William is to think of, too.” 

“ Harry is nearer to me.” 

“ I daresay Harry has all his plans laid for 
success.” 

“ Plans ! Nonsense ! Plans never succeed. Other 
people plan against your plans. In love affairs 
chance is more potent than forethought. Fore- 
thought has nothing but probabilities to work on. 
Chance looks to the stars, to circumstances, to oppor- 
tunities, and these things work miracles. Oh, I know 
it ! Tell Harry to trust to chance. I do not see, for 


bernicia's interference. 205 

my part, why he should not have the girl when he 
loves her so dearly.” 

“ And she loves him. I know it.” 

“ She has money ? ” said Fanny musingly. 

“ Lots of money.” 

“ Cresswell is not going to rack and ruin as badly 
as Allan Cresswell said it was. But, then, it is out of 
repair a little ; is it not, sister ? ” 

It is very much out of repair, Fanny.” 

“ Lots of money would make it one of the finest 
places in Northumberland.” 

“ It would, Fanny.” 

“ Then I do hope you will keep that fact in your 
mind, Bernicia. It is the plainest thing in the world 
to me that Harry ought to marry Claire Abney. I 
only wish the girl had a few more faults. People 
without faults are terrible-; there is no way to manage 
them. If Claire would only break her word and see 
Harry.” 

“ She will not.” 

** Circumstances alter cases, and love makes people 
over again. You will keep Cresswell in mind ? ” 

“ I never forget the dear old home.” 

“ Claire is only a woman, Bernicia.” 

“ Only a woman, Fanny ; and a woman in love.” 

** A poor creature, then. Here comes Arabella 
Darner, another ‘poor creature ’ for Harry’s sake.” 

“ Make excuses for me, Fanny. I can bear no 
‘ poor creature ’ but myself to-day,” and, laughing 
scornfully at her own accusation, she left the room in 
a hurry. 

The confusion and discomfort which Bernicia an- 
ticipated were fully realised during the following 


2o6 


BERNICIA. 


week, the ways and means for such domestic changes 
being then of a character both tedious and cumbrous. 
Even when London was reached there was a crowd 
of servants and tradesmen employed in beautifying 
the Piccadilly mansion, and the household was rest- 
less and irregular. Much new furniture had been 
bought, and the bustle of its arrival, the discussions 
attending its arrangement, and the constant calls upon 
her attention and approval wearied Bernicia ; for she 
had lost her childlike delight in her mere surround- 
ings, all her thoughts and feelings being for the time 
possessed by that vague melancholy which life distils 
from love, and disillusions, and vain regrets. 

In Richmond she had felt a passing eagerness to go 
to Bloomsbury, but she had been more than a week 
in London before she roused herself to the unusual 
effort. Then one morning she had a letter which 
filled her with remorse. “ Come to me, Bernicia ; I 
need you very much,” wrote Claire. The few words 
went to Bernicia's heart like the cry of a child ; tears, 
longing, sorrow, she knew not what else of calamity 
was in them, and she prepared with haste, yet with 
great care, for an immediate visit. 

Just as her coach came to the door, Harry called. 
He was richly and fashionably dressed in a brocaded 
suit of claret-coloured velvet, with a vest of cream- 
white satin. His laces were of the finest point, his 
shoes clasped with diamond buckles. A slight air of 
melancholy shadowed his face, but he was withal as 
noble and stately looking a young man as could be 
found in London. Bernicia smiled at him with affec- 
tionate pride. 

*‘You are extremely handsome, Harry,” she said ; 


bernicia’s interference. 


207 

** but pray, sir, what has become of your old 
sword ? ” 

He glanced almost disdainfully at the diamond- 
hilted weapon at his side, and answered : “ My old 
sword is not for this life. I have put it out of my 
sight until I go to Cresswell. Then I will cross it 
with my grandfather's in the state dining-hall. Do 
you remember, Bernicia, the long, notched broad- 
sword that lay in the chest with his bloody clothing ? ” 

“ The clothing had dropped to pieces nearly, Harry. 
How our hearts used to beat when we pushed up the 
lid in the dark room and looked at the laced coat and 
waistcoat stained with blood, and the battered hat, 
and the empty shoes, and the long, black sword on 
the top of all ! ” 

“ He died in the battlefield. He gave his life. I 
gave my youth to a lost cause ; our swords may hang 
together." There was a moment’s pause, and then 
Harry said sharply : 

“ You are going out, I see ? " 

“ I am going to spend the day with Claire." 

‘‘ Then I trust, Bernicia, you will have spirit 
enough, and kindness enough, to say a few words 
for me." 

“ You have stood by me, Harry, very well. I am 
your loving sister, and will do your pleasure when- 
ever, and wherever, and however I can." 

“It is with Claire entirely. I love her to extremity. 
I am determined to marry her." 

“You have heard that from her baby days she has 
been betrothed to a gentleman called Hutton." 

“ What do I care for the gentleman called Hutton ? 
In spite of the dead and the living, I will marry her." 


208 


BERNICIA. 


“ It shall not be my fault, Harry, if you fail.” 

“ Bernicia, what shall I give you for your kindness ? ” 

“ You may give me two kisses, if you will not touch 
my bonnet. Am I not very handsome this morning ; 
take care, sir, you will crush the pink bow under my 
chin.” 

‘‘ You are very kind and very handsome, and your 
beauty becomes you as the roses become the brier 
bush ?” 

“ Thank you, Harry ! 'Tis a pretty compliment, 
sir. I will cry your praises, sir, for it, do not doubt. 
Give me leave now to say good morning ! for Claire 
is in trouble, and she sends for me.” 

“ Tell her I love her with a noble madness — that I 
have no •reason left in my love.” 

“She will be afraid of such * noble madness,’ I 
think. Claire’s nature is so gentle that love will 
burn gently in it ; in truth, my dear Harry, its flame 
will be most like incense on an altar.” 

“ For this very cause, I give her such transcendent 
passion. The fearful love that trembled in her eyes 
when I began to speak of love, kindled in my heart 
a flame as mighty as it is invisible. Tell her these 
things ; say that the sun will weary of rising ere I 
weary of loving her ; say that if I saw her every day, 
and all the day, yet every day would still be the first, 
and I should long to see her more ; say that there is 
not a letter in her name but has a special charm to 
draw me to her feet ; say ” 

“ Indeed, Harry, I should need your tongue to 
speak so convincingly ; but trust me no more, if I do 
not teach her that she loves you. Who should be 
loved but you ? ” 


bernicia’s interference. 


209 


“ Then haste, Bernicia, and do not fail to notice 
how she looks, and what she says, and if you see her 
weep, kiss every tear away for me.” 

Bernicia’s first interview was, however, with 
madame. She had heard the approach of a carriage, 
and rose to meet her visitor. Bernicia was a momentary 
disappointment. “ I thought it was Harry,” she said. 
“ Have you at last remembered the way to Bloomsbury 
Square ? Ah, child, child ! could you find nothing 
else to do in the country but breed quarrels and make 
mischief, and take good men from their business to 
undo your foolishness ? ” 

“ It was not my fault, grandmother.” 

“ I cannot believe that it was George’s fault.” 

”Then it was Lord Rashleigh’s fault.” 

“ A good thing for my lord that he challenged 
George, and not your brother Harry. If he had 
called out Harry, Harry would have made him eat the 
last word of his challenge. Challenge^ indeed ! ” 

“ George is no coward, grandmother.” 

“ Oh, no ! George stood by his principle.” 

“ And Lord Rashleigh is a man of honour.” 

“ They are, then, it seems, both men of honour. 
Honour ! Honour is as good a shield as principle, it 
appears.” 

Lord Rashleigh is the finest swordsman in 
London.” 

“ We will except Harry.” 

“ And he put our welfare before his own gratifica- 
tion ; for I have no doubt it would have gratified him 
hugely to have had Mr. George Abney at his sword’s 
point.” 

“ We are all much obliged to Lord Rashleigh for 


210 


BERNICIA. 


considering our welfare. All the same, someone 
showed the white feather." 

“Are you sorry there was no duel, grandmother? " 

“ Is it your place to question your elders, miss ? 
Go upstairs to Claire. She is sick, or she has the 
vapours. I know not what is the matter. Girls are 
now past understanding. When I was a girl I was 
never sick or whimsied. Have you seen Harry this 
morning ? " 

“ Yes. He, too, is sick or whimsied. The young 
men also, it seems, grandmother, are now past under- 
standing. They used to love, and fight, and marry, 
and stand by their word with their life, or else all the 
old men I have met are liars. Lord Brander says all 
the young men are fools ; wisdom and virtue dwell 
with the old men. ’Tis a mercy the old men are like 
old dogs, and don’t learn new tricks. If they did, 
what would become of the world ? ” 

“ Bernicia, you are talking rubbish to me,” and 
madame lifted her knitting, and began to attentively 
count her stitches. 

So Bernicia went slowly upstairs. She had a 
mischievous smile on her face, but she could not 
escape, without a direct exercise of her will, the 
influence of the house. It was as still as if the very 
walls and furniture were asleep. To have opened 
Claire’s door with rapidity would have seemed an act 
of violence, and she entered the room with her whole 
being on tip-toe. Claire was unconscious of her 
entry. She lay on a sofa drawn before a fire, 
wrapped in a white shawl, and apparently asleep. 
Her face was white, and had that look of fragility 
which a flower has when it droops upon its stem. 


bernicia’s interference. 


2II 


Bernicia’s eyes filled with tears, and when Claire 
suddenly looked up at her, she fell on her knees and 
gathered her in her arms, and cried over her with 
girlish abandonment. “Why did you not tell me you 
were sick, Claire ? Why did you not send for me ? ” 
she cried. “ Oh, my dear, my dear, what is the matter 
with you ? ” 

“ I am just weak and weary, Bernicia. It has been 
such a sad summer. The days have been years long. 
I thought you would never come.” 

“ I am ashamed of myself. We have all been 
behaving badly, and you have had to bear the con- 
sequences — you, and poor Harry, who is as miserable 
as a man can be.” 

“ He comes to see madame, but I cannot see him,” 
and she covered her white face with her hands, and 
wept behind them. 

“ It is a shame ! It is Uncle William’s fault. 
Never mind, I shall tell him the truth about himself, 
before long. Claire, listen ! I have a message for 
you, if I can find the words Harry sent. They were 
to tell you that he has but one longing left, to see 
your face, and hear your voice ; that he comes here 
that he may feel himself near you ; that you are 
the woman of all his hopes and dreams, the treasure 
of his soul, the fire of his heart, the life of his life. 
He speaks no more of Cresswell, nor of the court, nor 
of play, nor of fashion, nor of beauty ; all his talk is 
of you. His eyes, and ears, and heart are full of your 
perfections ; indeed, Claire, he has left his heart with 
you, and carries- round with him an empty casket. 
These seem foolish words, dear, but they are the 
wisest I can find. If I could coin new ones, I might 


212 


BERNICIA. 


perhaps tell better how Harry loves you. I wish to 
Heaven I had a lover half so tender and so sensible. 
Fire and water should not separate us ; no, nor word 
of man or woman ; nor bond nor honour.” 

“ Your word of honour, Bernicia, you could not 
break that.” 

“ Oh, indeed, there are few words whose honour 
is worth dying for. Uncle William took you at an 
advantage, when you knew not what to say or what 
to do. You are a little coward, Claire. When he 
stepped between you and Harry why did you run 
away ? ” 

“ I was afraid. I was told by a look to go, and I 
had never disobeyed all my life.” 

“ Claire, you know that Harry loves you and lives 
for you. Is he not equally in your heart ? Yes, he 
is, dear. I know it ; and you know it ; and if you will 
confess so much of the truth to me, I will be your 
friend in this matter. I am not afraid of Uncle 
William.” 

Blushes bright and rosy wavered over Claire’s brow 
and cheeks, a smile parted her lips, and the eyes she 
lifted to Bernicia were beaming with tenderness and 
hope. The girls kissed each other, and in the kiss 
the secret was sweetly shared. Then followed one of 
those long, sympathetic confidences which take the 
sting out of womanly sorrows. Bernicia put off her 
taffeta sacque and petticoat, and put on a chamber 
wrap of flannel ; she drew a stool to the side of the 
sofa, and at Claire’s request, began at the beginning,” 
about Harry’s interview with the king, about the joy- 
ous first evening of his pardon and freedom ; about 
the quarrel of Rashleigh and George, and the duel 


bernicia’s interference. 


213 


which was not fought. Of these affairs Claire had 
heard in general ; but all their interesting little details 
were new to her. 

Thus Bernicia described everything that had been 
said and done. They talked over the part Mr. White- 
field had taken, and Lord Pomfret’s interference, and 
the attitude assumed by George Abney and William 
Bouverie. Perhaps Bernicia was a little hard on 
George, and Claire did not defend him very warmly ; 
for a case between moral principle and physical 
bravery is almost prejudged. Women at any rate 
approve the first, and adore the latter ; and both girls, 
at the end, came to madame's opinion, that Lord 
Rashleigh would have been forced to fight if he had 
challenged Harry instead of George ; and both felt a 
thrill of satisfaction in this decision. 

By the time Bernicia had told her story she was 
hungry. She ordered lunch to be brought upstairs, 
and Claire was astonished to find herself enjoying 
its delicacies. So far Claire had questioned and 
listened, and Bernicia talked. After lunch, Bernicia 
began to question. Had Claire seen Harry in his 
new wine-coloured suit ; or his blue velvet laced with 
silver ; or his court dress of white satin embroidered 
in gold ? “ Harry,” she said, had always visited 

madame in his fineries, and she knew it was only 
because he hoped Claire would also see him.” 

Claire shook her head. “ I always heard his coach,” 
she answered sadly, “ and I longed to go to my win- 
dow, but it would not have been right. Sometimes I 
walked about the floor too miserable to sit still ; and 
sometimes I laid myself on my bed and buried my 
face in my pillow and cried bitterly.” 


214 


BERNICIA. 


“ I should have moved the blind, and looked at him 
through the window, Claire. Any woman but you 
would have done so. Poor Plarry ! ?Ie has been 
lifting his hat and w^asting his love looks on mere 
wood and glass, for he always looked up and bowed 
toward your windows on his coming and going." 

When it was mid-afternoon there was a little lull in 
the conversation, and after a few minutes’ pause, Claire 
said, “We have been so happy, and our talk of Harry 
has been so sweet, that I would not name any other 
person with him. But there is another, Bernicia, and 
this is what makes me so wretched. Mr. Hutton has 
come home. He dines with us nearly every after- 
noon, and our marriage is talked about in that settled 
way so impossible to contradict. It is killing me, 
Bernicia." 

“You will never marry him. When Fate was 
looking forward one day, she named you for Harry 
Cresswell. Look you, Claire ! You ought to speak 
up, and speak out. What kind of a creature has 
this Mr. Hutton grown into ? " 

“ He is nothing like Harry." 

“ Of course he is nothing like Harry. Who is to be 
compared with Harry? Claire, I have a new idea. 
Do you mind being too sick to come down to dinner 
to-night ? " 

“ I shall be most glad to remain in my room." 

“ Do so, then ; it will suit my idea exactly. Now I 
am going to make myself killingly handsome, for I 
hope to have the honour of enchaining Mr. Hutton. 
Mr. Oliver Augustus Hutton, is it not ? lam glad I 
wore my rose taffeta ; it is so vastly becoming tome." 

To dress herself was always a satisfying occupation 


BERNICIA^S INTERFERENCE. 21 $ 

to Bernicia, and she took a special delight in the 
business at this time. Claire, full of a calm content, 
lay watching her accomplish her intention, and she 
thought as the business proceeded that she had never 
seen Bernicia so lovely and so ready for conquest. Her 
rose taffeta sacque fell in a graceful demitrain behind, 
but was short enough in front to reveal pretty heeled 
shoes, trimmed with rose ribbons and silver buckles. 
Her fawn-coloured petticoat was embroidered with 
roses. Fine lace shaded her neck and arms, and her 
long, black hair fell in a studied disorder that was 
very charming. And these things were only the frame 
to a face of bewitching loveliness, and a figure of 
exquisite grace and proportions. 

“ Am I not most engaging ? ” she cried, spreading 
out her skirts, and making Claire a low courtesy. Her 
eyes danced with mirth, her cheeks were brilliant with 
colour, her mouth rosy and pouting. “ I will tell you, 
Claire," she continued, “ that I dressed myself this 
morning hoping that by some chance I might be seen 
by George. Is his presence to be hoped for ? " 

“ I fear not. I wish indeed that he could see you. 
What will you do to him ? ’’ 

“ Make him utterly miserable. I should like of all 
things to put him in a passion. If I do speak to him, 
I shall speak only of the unfought duel. I shall talk 
of it in all its lights, and in all my moods. I shall 
argue the subject with him as a pagan and a Christian, 
as a granddaughter and a sister, as a woman at liberty 
and a woman in love. I assure you I have a fine say- 
ing for every case ; for the particular case of courage 
I have a whole set of fine sayings. I will go now and 
jsee Mr. Oliver Augustus Hutton. Eat a good dinner, 


2i6 


BERNICIA. 


Claire, and think of Harry, then go to sleep and dream 
of him.” 

Dinner was ready when she entered the room. 
Madame was leaning upon her son’s arm, midway 
between the hearth and the table. They had evi- 
dently stopped there to welcome a young man who 
stood bowing, and tapping his gold snuffbox, and 
making explanations — a tall, fair young man, with a 
long neck and a weak chin. When he turned and 
faced Bernicia, he was dumfounded. This radiant, 
glowing divinity was not the pale, frail virgin he 
expected to meet. And for a moment or two William 
Bouverie was also confused. Bernicia had not been 
in his thoughts or consideration, and her beauty struck 
him as if he had never seen it before. In his own 
mind he had resolved to make her first visit a season 
of reproofs, and he was not able to say one disagree- 
able word. On the contrary, there was a slight air of 
pride in his introduction of Bernicia, — “ My niece. 
Miss Cresswell.” 

Madame watched and smiled, and held her peace. 
She did not wonder at her son’s complaisance, — she 
knew Beauty was omnipotent, — but she did wonder 
what reason Bernicia might have for her alluring atten- 
tions to young Mr. Hutton. She chattered to him and 
to her uncle all during the dinner hour, making both 
of them laugh heartily and frequently at her little 
impertinences of criticism, at her airs and caprices 
and coquetries. 

And when William Bouverie had retired she gave 
herself up to the busijiess of fascinating Claire’s lover. 
She asked him to tell her about his travels, and 
affected ignorance of many things that he might have 


bernicia’s interference. 


217 


the proud satisfaction of enlightening her. She pre- 
tended the greatest interest in his personal adventures. 
She sang for him, and she sang with him. She begged 
him to show her how to render a certain legato pas- 
sage, and to teach her the trick of his trill and turn, 
and madame found it hard to restrain herself at her 
mockery of the young man’s voice and manner. But 
he was under an enchantment. He saw, and heard, 
and felt only as Bernicia desired him ; the perfume 
of her bending face and floating hair was a kind of 
intoxication, and her touch on his hand, as they turned 
the music, thrilled him like the stirring of a new life. 
He lingered an hour later than usual, and left then 
only because it was impossible to ignore any longer 
madame’s restless impatience. And he never once 
thought of Claire. 

“ Well, miss,” said madame angrily, as soon as they 
were alone, “ I hope I may never have to spend such 
another hour. I am ashamed of you. For no 
purpose, you have been doing evil to your friend, and 
to a stranger ; and let me tell you, only an ape does 
mischief for the joy of doing it.” 

“ Dear grandmother, for once in your life you are 
all in the wrong. Whatever I have said and done to- 
night has been done for Claire’s happiness, and for 
Harry’s happiness. Harry adores Claire, and Claire is 
dying for Harry, and there is no match that could be 
wiser for both. As I am a woman, I can but use a 
woman’s ways and means ; but if you will have pa- 
tience, I will gladly explain myself.” 

Whatever needs to be explained does not deserve 
to be explained.” 

“ La, grandmother ! there are exceptions, and this is 


2i8 


BERNICIA. 


one of them. Cresswell is indeed a magnificent home 
and estate, but it needs a lot of money to put it in 
order. True, cousin Allan is at present wearing his 
angel clothes, and has already sent Harry a good 
return. But * good ’ is not enough for Harr3^ Harry 
has the family to refound, he has the castle partly to 
rebuild, and it must be entirely refurnished. He has 
the farmhouses to repair, and the land to refence and 
to improve. He ought to be high sheriff of North- 
umberland. He ought to raise a thousand men for 
the king, and keep the Border.” 

A thousand men ! ” 

And call them the ‘ Cresswell Light Lancers.’ ” 

“ What nonsense you are talking ! A thousand 
men ! They would have nothing to do.” 

You are much mistaken, grandmother. Union or 
no Union, do you believe the Scots will behave them- 
selves long ? They harried and w^orried the Planta- 
genets, Tudors, and Stuarts ; do you expect them to 
keep friends long with the Hanover people ? They 
won’t do it. And just as soon as there is trouble, it is 
always 

“ * Northumberland hasty and hot 
That prods the Scot.’ 

Harry is soldier enough to need the stir of arms and 
the hope of a fight. So are the men of his county. 
He will in this way get them round him. He will 
become their leader, and they, in return, will give him 
honour, and make him great.” 

“ And pray, what has Claire to do in such a life as 
this ? Are there any meetinghouses, any of the 
things to which she is accustomed, near Cresswell, to 
which she can turn for pleasure and comfort ? ” 


bernicia’s interference. 


219 


“ Claire will have Harry and her home, and Harry's 
church and Harry’s friends. She will be very happy ; 
and she is precisely what Harry needs, for she adores 
Harry to such a pitch that she will be interested in all 
he wishes and in all he does — in his hunting and fish- 
ing and building, his farming, and his fighting. Also, 
she will not be too fine for the county ladies. I 
assure you, they will be perfectly happy, for Harry 
is at heart a county squire, far more than a court 
lounger.” 

“ Harry ought to marry a lady of equal birth.” 

“ He might marry Miss Darner. She loves him 
entirely, and she also has lots of money ; but she 
would keep Harry dangling about St. James’s, for she 
is nothing at all but a pretty bauble — something for 
a man to hang at his watch-chain. All their money 
would go in gambling and dressing, and in giving 
great balls and dinners. Harry is already weary of 
that kind of life.” 

“ There is much sense in what you say, Bernicia ; 
but we must not lose honour in interest. Claire’s 
money was made by her mother’s father and grand- 
father, and they desired Claire to marry into the Hut- 
ton family. Your Uncle William solemnly promised 
to see their wish carried out. And he will do it, you 
may depend on that.” 

“ Not if Love and I can help it. The Cresswells 
need Claire’s money ; the Huttons do not. Claire 
dislikes young Oliver Augustus, and she loves Harry. 
I am for making Harry and Claire happy.” 

“ But how was your behaviour to-night to the pur- 
pose ? ” 

‘‘Oh, grandmother, it is the plainest thing in the 


220 


BERNICIA. 


world ! If Oliver Augustus Hutton should get it into 
his head and heart that he would rather not marry 
Claire, — that he would rather marry someone else, — 
what is uncle going to do with both parties against 
him ? Do you not comprehend — you, that can see 
afar off as well as anyone ? I am sure you do. So, 
now, I am going to talk to Uncle William.” 

“ Not now, miss. Your uncle is in his private 
room, and ” 

“ JSlow^ of all times ! I am in beauty and spirits 
to-night. I shall catch at advantages, and win them. 
Grammercy ! I feel myself to be almost an angel, 
pitying the unhappy, and running all sorts of dangers 
for their welfare,” and she walked up to the large 
mirror between the windows and smiled to her owm 
beauty and good-nature. 

“ That will do, child,” said madame. “To-night, I 
will think ; to-morrow, there may be more to say.” 

Madame had no idea that Bernicia would venture 
to seek an interview with her uncle. She herself 
respected the ever-closed door of his private room, 
where it was supposed all his business plans were laid 
and his business perplexities solved. Bernicia had no 
such reluctances, and “ business ” did not inspire her 
with any respect. She knocked at the inviolable 
door, and, receiving no answer, knocked again. Then 
William Bouverie said sharply, “ Come in ! ” and she 
entered. He was sitting quite at his ease before a 
glowing fire, smoking his pipe, and there was not the 
slightest evidence of “ business ” in the comfortable 
apartment. 

“ Well, Bernicia,” he said, rising to his feet, but 
giving her no sign of welcome, “ what do you want?” 


bernicia’s interference. 


221 


She closed the door, and, advancing to the hearth, 
stood in its glow looking at him. Then he said more 
gently : “ You must have a good excuse, Bernicia, for 
interfering with my privacy.” 

“ I have, Uncle William. I want to tell you about 
Claire : I do not think either grandmother or you 
realise that she is very sick, and like to be worse 
unless a change is made.” 

“ You are talking foolishly. There is nothing seri- 
ously the matter with Claire. If there was, I should 
not need you to tell me of it.” 

“ You see her every day, and you do not notice the 
change. I was shocked by it. And, whether you like 
it or like it not, uncle, I must tell you — the blame is 
yours. Now, you cannot say that ‘ you did not know,’ 
and get angry with people for not telling you.” 

“ How am I to blame? You do not know what you 
are talking about.” 

“ I think you treat Claire abominably, and she is 
breaking her heart about it. You have known her all 
her life long, yet you say to her, ‘ Do not dare to see, 
do not dare to speak to, Harry Cresswell.’ You might 
just as well tell her, ‘ I do not trust you for a moment, 
for you are certain to lie and deceive me.’ How 
would you like to be treated so ? And the promise 
you extorted from her is an insult. She thought you 
loved and trusted her, and she is shocked to find you 
neither love nor trust her.” 

^‘Bernicia, will you remember to whom you are 
talking ? ” 

“ I remember that I am talking to William Bouverie 
— a man said to be fair and just, even to his debtors 
and his enemies. Poor Claire ! What has she done 


222 


BERNICIA. 


but love you so well that your anger is breaking her 
heart ? Why cannot you trust to her love and honour ? 
If it were I then I should not wonder, because I am 
wilful and disobedient ; and as for breaking my heart, 
I would not do such a thing for your love nor for the 
love of any other man.” 

“ Bernicia, I have good reason for doubting Claire. 
Harry was making love to her when I stepped between 
them and sent Claire to her room.” 

“ Is that all ? How could Harry help making love 
to a beautiful girl in the same house with him ? A 
poor spirited man he would be had he not made love 
to her.” 

“But Claire looked as if she liked and approved 
his folly.” 

“ Pray, sir, what woman does not like and approve 
such folly ? That poor creature, Mr. Hutton, made 
love to me an hour ago, and I looked as if I liked and 
approved him.” 

“ Then you ought not to have done so. And if Mr. 
Hutton made love to you he is, I think, something of 
a scoundrel. You are mistaken.” 

“ He was awkward enough in his attempts ; but he 
meant them for love-making, there is no doubt of that.” 

“ He is, as you know, engaged to marry Claire.” 

“ I know nothing certain of that subject.” 

“ Claire was promised to him by her parents. I 
made the promise for her, and I regard it as sacred.” 

“ Promised ! The promise is a dead promise. It 
is twenty years old. Everything is changed since it 
was made. It is high time it was forgotten.” 

“ Her parents doubtless remember it, and Claire 
must keep their wish and my word.” 


bernicia’s interference. 223 

** I should not think they remember anything about 
it. If heaven is the gloriously happy place Mr. White- 
field says it is, they must have long ago forgotten this 
dreary world. Beside, as you know, sir, there is no 
marrying or giving in marriage in heaven.” 

“ The thing comes to this, Bernicia. Harry is in 
love with Claire’s money.” 

“You are far wrong, uncle. Harry is in love with 
Claire. As far as Harry is concerned, you may take 
her money and make a rattle of it. You have no 
right to judge Harry by your own fears and doubts, 
and you have no right to make Claire ill and unhappy 
for a dead promise. Do you think more of your own 
word than of Claire’s life ? You are most supremely 
selfish if you do.” 

He remained silent after this accusation, and 
Bernicia stood silent before him. She had one foot 
on the fender, her pretty robe was gathered over her 
left arm, and her eloquent eyes steadily regarded her 
uncle. His face was cast downward ; he fingered 
slowly his great bunch of gold seals, and he appeared 
to have forgotten Bernicia’s presence. Thus they 
remained for about five minutes, Bernicia thought it 
was an hour. Then William Bouverie stood up and 
said with some impatience : 

“ Tell Claire I wish to speak to her. And never 
come to this room again, Bernicia. I consider your 
intrusion to-night a great impertinence, miss.” 

“ No, uncle, I am not impertinent. I am only 
brave, and bravery belongs to the family. And yet 
in this matter I am not very brave, because I knew 
I need not fear to come to you with a right thing 
or a kind thing. And that is all there is about it, sir.” 


224 


BERNICIA. 


In half an hour, while Claire and Bernicia were 
still talking over this interview, William Bouverie 
came to them. He sat down beside Claire and drew 
her within his arm. 

“ My dear daughter," he said, “ Bernicia tells me 
I have been unkind to you. Is it so ? " 

“You have doubted me, sir, and scarcely spoken to 
me, and I have been very lonely and miserable." 

“ Then I will now fully trust you. You may see 
Sir Harry Cresswell whenever you wish. You may 
walk with him and talk with him as you desire. 
I have always objected to your visiting at Lady Pom- 
fret’s house. You may now accept any invitation 
Bernicia gives you. If I extorted any promise from 
you regarding Sir Harry Cresswell I give it back. 
I trust entirely to your honour. For the next six 
months you have absolute freedom to go where you 
wish and to do as you wish. All I ask is that you 
give Augustus Hutton such opportunities to win your 
favour as are just and reasonable. At the end of six 
months I am sure you will be ready to fulfil the prom- 
ise I made to your dying father and mother for you. 
Have I not tried to take their place, Claire ? Have I 
failed to be ever kind and just and generous to you ? " 

“You have been the best of fathers. I love you 
with all my heart." 

“ Then, my dear, remember that obedience is better 
than sacrifice." With these words he kissed her, and, 
turning to Bernicia, asked : “ Are you ready now for 
family worship ? lam going to the parlour." 

“ I beg you to excuse me, uncle," she answered. 
“ I will remain with Claire, who, as you may see, needs 
what strength and comfort I can give her." 


bernicia’s interference. 


225 


So he went, but it was with an air of great de- 
pression. And madame knew that he was in trouble, 
because he did not read the portion of the Scriptures 
that was in order, but turned for comfort to the Book 
of Psalms — a thing which he always did when in any 
way afflicted or distressed in mind, body, or estate. 
After the dismissal of the servants he remained a 
long time with madame, but she evidently gave him 
little sympathy, for he left her presence with a still 
deeper air of depression and disappointment. It was 
not, however, unmixed. There was a certain stub- 
bornness in his face and erect figure which indicated 
that he had not abandoned his position, but rather 
changed his base, in order more surely to protect it. 

But whatever plans or projects he carried in his 
own mind, Claire was unsuspicious of them. He left 
only hope and peace in her heart, and very soon after 
his departure the girls, being thoroughly wearied with 
their day of emotion, went to sleep in each other’s 
arms. 

In the morning there was a general disposition to 
avoid conversation. Madame took her breakfast 
alone, Claire and Bernicia took theirs together in 
Claire’s sitting room, and William Bouverie was glad 
to let the discussion grow cold before there was 
any opportunity to reopen the subject. Madame 
had much the same feeling. When Bernicia’s coach 
was at the door she went to her grandmother, but 
found her in a mood that repelled all questioning. 
Bernicia thought her coldness and indifference more 
than necessary, even if they were assumed in order to 
prevent premature discussion. She made her adieux 
with some offence : 


226 


BERNICIA. 


“ I am as cross as the rest, this morning, grand- 
mother,” she said ; “ we are not a happy and 
amiable family. I fear, indeed, we are a self-willed, 
selfish lot.” 

“ Speak for yourself, miss,” answered madame 
sharply, and Bernicia left the room to the irritable 
note. It was no wonder that the old porter’s deliber- 
ation made her impatient. She put him and his atten- 
tions aside with an air of pique and displeasure, and 
entered her coach with a feeling that she had been 
badly used, and her efforts for everyone’s good not 
properly appreciated. Consequently, she was in a 
bad temper, and this was unfortunate for George, who 
was just entering the square in a hackney coach. He 
was returning from Gloucester, weary with his long 
ride, and not at that moment thinking of Bernicia. 

But she was thinking of him ; she was putting his 
absence to the list of her other annoyances, and un- 
justly laying the sum total of them on a lover who 
had not divined the probability of her yisit and been 
there to meet her. 

“ He is never there when I want to see him, and I 
do not care if I never see him again,” she muttered. 
‘‘He knew when Wednesday came, and he ought to 
have been watching for me every Wednesday until he 
did see me.” Then hearing the approach of a vehicle, 
she lifted her eyes and saw George sitting straight and 
severe-looking in it. His eyes were fixed upon his 
home ; but the next moment he recognised Bernicia’s 
coach. She saw him speak to his driver and she 
understood he was going to alight and accost her. 

Then the contradictory nature of her liking asserted 
itself, and she touched the little bell which directed 


bernicia's interference. 227 

her coachman to drive faster, so that before George 
could step to the ground she had passed him. On 
her face there was a look of calm indifference, and 
her eyes looked over and beyond the hack and its 
occupant. It was impossible for George to decide 
whether she had recognised him or not, but the uncer- 
tainty made him wretched enough. 

Bernicia also was unhappy. Her ill-nature reacted 
on herself ; she was sorry she had given way to the 
petty impulse. She believed that she had wounded 
George, and despite her pretended indifference she 
suffered with him. “ I am in love with the fear of 
being in love,” she thought. ‘‘ It is a most trouble- 
some condition. I wish that I had stayed longer with 
Claire. He ought to have returned yesterday ; it is 
his own fault. I will not think of him at all.” In 
such distraction and desire she reached home and 
found her sister dressed for the park, but looking 
gloomily out of the window at the lowering sky. 

“ Is it going to rain, Bernicia ? ” she asked im- 
patiently. “ I have dressed myself in my new cloak 
and pink ridinghood, and I hope I may wear them 
safely.” 

Indeed, Fanny, I think the weather is going to 
show us what it can do in the way of temper. It is 
blowing north, and east, and cold, and vapours, and 
dust.” 

“ Then I will not ride. There is not a month in the 
year whose honour you can trust. Never country had 
such a wild, capricious climate. I will go to Italy. I 
will go to the tropics.” 

“ You will live and die in London, Fan.” 

“What have you to tell of the Bloomsbury people ?” 


228 


BERNICIA. 


Nothing to make a talk over. They live in a 
circle, and go round and round. I saw the young 
gentleman who proposes to marry Claire Abney and 
her gold. Harry has nothing to fear from him — he is 
too tall, too fair, too everything that is not desirable.” 

How old is he ? ” 

“ About twenty-five years of age, and about ten of 
understanding.” 

“ So much for him, then ! ” and she took a pinch of 
snuff from a jewelled box open on the table and scat- 
tered the powder on the floor ; “ so much for him. 
La, Bernicia ! there is nothing in nothing, so far as I 
can see.” 

“ Well, I did something toward Harry’s success,” 
and Bernicia related the conversation with her uncle 
and its results. But she was just then out of sympathy 
with her subject, and she threw no interest into her 
recital. So Fanny paid little attention to her report, 
though she laughed a little at Bernicia’s meddling. 

“ It is a wonder that Uncle William did not turn 
Turk,” she answered. “ Tush ! Let their quarrels 
come and go as they please for a while. I am tired of 
them. To-night we are to dine with the Capels, and 
we shall meet fools and folly enough to put yesterday’s 
fools and folly out of our talk and memory.” 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE GREATEST PLEASURE OF LIFE IS LOVE. 

After this arrangement Bernicia and Claire were 
much together, and the companionship was conducive 
alike to their pleasure and the enlargement of their 
ideas regarding life. They got wider and more 
reasonable views of both sides of social existence. 
Each had been accustomed to regard the other’s sur- 
roundings with contempt or disapproval ; and Claire 
was brightened by the variety and vivacity of Bernicia's 
life, while Bernicia was made more thoughtful and 
more calm by a frequent contact with ideas of vital 
and unchanging interest. 

The innate piety of Claire’s nature kept her a 
mere looker-on, but she was a pleased and a tolerant 
one, and nobody was offended by her piety, for it was 
as much a part of Claire as colour is a part of the rose 
or perfume of the violet. Lord Pomfret liked “the 
little saint,” he said frankly ; “ she is an angelical 
creature.” Lady Pomfret did not deny this opinion, 
but thought it a fault in a woman who owned so much 
of the world not to go into the world and be more 
like the world. But Bernicia was sure it would be as 
unnatural to see Claire wandering about the gay 
places of society as to see Lent lilies gadding over the 
walls and fences like woodbines. All alike, however, 
were aware of the value of Claire’s influence over 


229 


230 


BERNICIA. 


Harry, and of the immense advantage her wealth 
would be to the Cresswell estate. 

She kept her contract with her guardian to its last 
tittle ; she was even scrupulously careful to give 
Augustus Hutton the “fair and reasonable oppor- 
tunities ” stipulated for. In order to do this it was 
necessary he should visit her at the Pomfret mansion, 
and the young man received her ladyship’s invitation 
to do so. He soon made good, on his own account, 
the favour accorded at first for Claire’s sake ; for it was 
impossible to resist his amiable desire to please. He 
was every beautiful woman’s servant — ready at all 
hours, and at all expenditure or trouble, to do her 
pleasure. 

The gay, splendid, witty women of fashion and 
rank, whom he now met for the first time, were a new 
kind of womanhood to him. He was in love with 
everyone he met. He learned how to dance, that he 
might please Bernicia ; Miss Darner easily persuaded 
him to take a hand at cards with her. The life he saw 
in Piccadilly seemed, of all lives, the most desir- 
able ; and, as he dressed with great richness and in 
the height of the mode, and was ever ready to be 
obliging, the women of Lady Pomfret’s set soon made 
a pet and a convenience of him. They sent him on 
their messages and told him their love secrets, and in 
many ways treated him more like a womanly friend 
and confidant than a, lover or a visitor. 

Augustus was quite pleased with the position as- 
signed him. He believed himself to be an object 
of envy to other men, and was scarcely jealous of 
Harry, though Harry looked upon his pretensions 
with unconcealed contempt. Between men so equally 


THE GREATEST PLEASURE OF LIFE IS LOVE. 23I 

disdainful of each other even Claire had no difficulty 
in keeping peace ; or, if any prospect of trouble ap- 
peared, Bernicia was sufficient for the occasion. 

Frequently Claire returned to Bloomsbury for a 
few days, but the change appeared to give no one 
pleasure. Harry would only visit her during the 
middle of the day, when his uncle was in the city, 
and Mr. Hutton did not value his exclusive privileges 
in the evenings. He was sighing all the time for the 
pleasures and the company at Lady Pomfret's. Mme. 
Bouverie was not anxious for her society, for when 
she was not present Harry’s visits were entirely her 
own. She had little confidences with him, and there 
were favours between them no one knew of. In fact, 
madame was jealous of Harry’s love and attention, 
and, though she tolerated Claire as a necessity for his 
welfare, she was not happy in Claire’s happiness. 
And if George missed his sister, he was glad to think 
of her as constantly in Bernicia’s society, for she 
would surely find many opportunities to plead his 
cause. So, then, there were few motives drawing her 
to Bloomsbury and many pleasant ones drawing her 
to Piccadilly. 

Harry was in Piccadilly nearly all day long, and she 
had also Bernicia’s confidence and sympathy. There, 
someone was always near to love her, and to feel an 
interest in what she thought, or in what she was 
doing or going to do. And to pass from this at- 
mosphere of light and love and movement to the 
stillness and method and repression of the life in 
Bloomsbury was not a pleasing change. As the 
months went on, it was made less and less frequently, 
and at every visit she found the difference more pro- 


232 


BERNICIA. 


nounced. Madame said “ it was in herself," which 
was likely. She pointed out the slight accommoda- 
tions to court fashion made in her dress, speech, and 
manners, and declared that “ in another year Claire 
would be outwardly a woman of the world." And 
Claire, who knew that her heart was right with 
Heaven, was grieved to find herself judged by the 
colour of her ribbons, or the make of her stomacher, 
or the trimming of her bonnet. 

If Claire went little to Bloomsbury, Bernicia went 
less. She would not remain all night there, because 
she had no intention of giving George any advantage 
from those softer moments which assail every woman. 
She would not appear to seek a reconciliation with 
him, and George’s advances in this direction had 
been singularly unfortunate. Twice, when he called 
at Lady Pomfret’s, the ladies were really out, and the 
third time Bernicia and Fanny were in the midst of a 
sisterly quarrel, and not disposed to have it interfered 
with. This particular time he had seen the coachman 
lounging in the yard, and so was sure the ladies were 
at home ; consequently he believed that he had been 
on all three occasions refused admittance. And he 
was far too proud to subject himself to another refusal. 

But Lord Rashleigh, who saw her frequently, was 
no more fortunate, though he took pains to arrange 
their meeting at such times as he thought would be 
favourable. Thus Bernicia and Claire were usually at 
Lady Huntington’s Sunday night service, and Lord 
Rashleigh was never absent. But the mood induced 
by the preacher’s eloquent appeals was not one favour- 
able to him. For in these weeks Bernicia was passing 
through an experience that no man or woman could 


THE GREATEST PLEASURE OF LIFE IS LOVE. 233 

have depended upon. She was struggling against 
selfishness and folly toward the heights of that pure 
life she really longed for — stumbling, falling, mistak- 
ing her way, longing for light, even while plunging 
willingingly into deeper darkness. Claire, who was 
the only witness of this interior life, pitied the girl 
greatly ; she was familiar with her heavenly desires and 
her constant failures ; and she perceived the misery 
of an existence which was a sustained spiritual defeat. 
But Claire had been born with good instincts, — there 
was even a touch of Pharisaism in her spotless piety, — 
and it was therefore impossible for even Claire to 
quite understand the longings and the despairs which 
made her friend’s soul their battleground. 

After one of Mr. Whitefield’s electric “ calls ” 
Bernicia was usually in a condition of determined 
self-denial, resolved to give up all that could lead her 
heart astray. And she was afraid of Lord Rashleigh 
in two respects — he would either put her in a passion, 
or he would lead her thoughts far from the higher 
subjects on which she was determined to settle them. 
Had Lord Rashleigh known her better, he would 
have avoided making himself the special temptation 
of her best moments. And yet — though such calcula- 
tion was far beyond him — his constant disappoint- 
ments were working in Bernicia’s heart a pity, not far 
from that akin to love. She wondered at his per- 
sistence, not understanding that to a man of Lord 
Rashleigh’s temper, the weekly disappointment was 
a weekly spur and incentive ; and that he left Lady 
Huntington’s every Sunday night more and more 
determined to win the girl who so continuously foiled 
his intentions and frustrated his hopes. 


234 


BERNICIA. 


From these general events it is easy to imagine the 
usual trend of events in the lives of the two girls 
during some weeks ; Claire’s especially being of that 
calm, satisfied character which accompanies love 
affairs thoroughly understood and full of happiness 
and hope. Bernicia, indeed, was often irritated by 
the complacencies of Harry’s and Claire’s affection. 
‘‘Why do you not quarrel a little with him?” she 
asked. “A lover that is always satisfied and always 
smiling is too comfortable to be endurable. Break 
off your engagement, if only that you may have the 
pleasure of renewing it again. You weary me with 
your contentments.” But Claire, whose ideal life was 
in green pastures and by still waters, could not bear 
to even think of a frown on Harry’s face, or of a 
shadow on their love. 

On the Sunday night before Christmas there was 
a decided move in Bernicia’s love affairs. It was a 
stormy night, with a high wind and heavy fain, and quite 
unfit for any expedition abroad. After dinner, there- 
fore, Lady Pomfret said, as she owed herself about 
sixty hours of sleep, she would lie down on the sofa and 
pay a little on account, “ and you girls can take care 
of Lord Pomfret,” she added. “ He will not be very 
ill-natured if you let him finished his pipe in peace.” 

So for an hour Lord Pomfret sat on the hearth 
smoking and thinking, and Lady Pomfret lay with 
closed eyes among her cushions ; and Bernicia made 
pictures in the fire, and Claire read at a little table, 
where there was a branch of shaded candles. Lord 
Pomfret made the first movement. He put his pipe 
down, and looked at Bernicia. “ Suppose you read 
a little to me now,” he said ; and she answered, “ I 


THE GREATEST PLEASURE OF LIFE IS LOVE. 235 

am most willing. Shall I get the Gentlemans Maga- 
zine^ or the ‘ History of Christina of Sweden,’ or 
the ‘Account of Admiral Anson’s Last Voyage ’ ? ” 

“ I will listen to no more of Admiral Anson’s ex- 
travagant stories. Do you believe them? To-night 
I was thinking of Mr. Whitefield, and of what he said 
and what he read. If you have a Bible at hand, 
I will listen to it for half an hour.” 

Without much heart she got the desired book, 
and opening it at random, lighted on the story of 
King David and his son Absalom. Lord Pomfret 
listened with great interest and attention until the 
young man has paid the penalty of his treason and 
filial disloyalty. Then he said excitedly : “By all 
that’s true ! it is the history of George II. and his 
son Frederick, Prince of Wales ! But there would 
be no mourning for Frederick if he died ; his father 
would only say ‘Thank God he is gone!’ Now, 
Claire, you shall read me a portion.” 

Then Claire turned the pages of her New Testa- 
ment, and read the verses describing the temptation 
of Christ after his forty days fasting in the wilderness. 
This incident interested Lord Pomfret still more. 

“ The devil took Christ to the top of a high moun- 
tain, and showed him all the kingdoms of the world 
in a moment of time ? ” he asked. 

Claire read the verse again. 

“ And he promised to give the power and glory of 
them to Christ if he would worship him ? ” 

“ He did, sir.” 

“And he said he could give them, because they 
were his to give.” 

“ That is what he said, sir.” 


236 


BERNICIA. 


“And you will observe that Christ did not deny 
this claim of the devil. So, then, he really acknowl- 
edged the devil’s authority in this world, and his right 
to give it to whom he chose. That makes some 
things very clear. Miss Abney, and accounts for the 
prosperity of so many wicked men and women. It is 
the gift of the devil." 

“ If you please, not so, brother," said Bernicia. 
“ What a libel on all our class ! Are the rich and the 
great, then, but pensioners of the devil ? " 

“ That is what it appears. This Bible is a wonder- 
ful book. I shall never be weary of it.” 

“ Your deduction in this case is all wrong, sir,” 
said Claire. She was smiling and turning the leaves 
of her Bible as she spoke, and, in a moment, she 
brought it to Lord Pomfret and said : “ There is the 
answer : ‘ The earth is the Lord’s and the fulness 
thereof ; the world and they that dwell therein ’ 
(Psalm xxiv. i), and as for the devil’s word, hear 
what St. John says it is worth,’' and she turned the 
pages again and read : “ ‘ He is a liar and the father 
of it ’ ” (John viii. 44). 

In the midst of this discussion — for Lord Pomfret 
pretended to hold firmly to his first impression — there 
was the sound of wheels in the court, and Claire had 
difficulty in answering her opponent. She was listen- 
ing for Harry’s footsteps, and yet she said, “ I do not 
think it is Harry, for to-night he is nursing Captain 
Ball, who was stabbed in the throat by a highwayman 
a week ago." 

Bernicia was not interested. “ It is Harry, of course,” 
she said. “ He has remembered you and found Cap- 
tain Ball tiresome. Love is stronger than friendship.” 


THE GREATEST PLEASURE OF LIFE IS LOVE. 237 

But it was not Harry. When the door opened it 
admitted Lord Rashleigh. He had removed his cloak, 
but he showed signs of the storm, and very gladly put 
himself within the heat of the blazing fire. Lord 
Pomfret took up again the subject they had been dis- 
cussing, and Rashleigh tried to feel an interest in it, 
but failed. He was watching Bernicia, who had taken 
Claire’s seat at the table, and whose eyes were on the 
open book, though she was not reading a word. She 
had answered his salutation with a courtesy, and then 
retired from the conversation. All attempts to draw 
her into it again failed, and Lord Rashleigh per- 
ceived that he must take some decided step if he 
would obtain any satisfactory interview. 

“ I am going to Rashleigh Court to keep Christ- 
mas,” he said. “ Whether I shall return to London 
or not is uncertain. I may go at once to Italy.” 

He looked at Bernicia as he made this statement, 
but she heard it with the indifference of one who has 
neither care nor interest in the matter. 

“ I am very sorry,” answered Lord Pomfret. 
“ Whom shall I play with when you are gone ? 
There is no one like you for a good long game and a 
heavy stake.” 

I will play with you to-night, if you wish.” 

“ No, you will not,” said Lady Pomfret, rising from 
her sofa and coming forward with a smile. “ Let me 
tell you. Lord Rashleigh, I keep Sunday to my 
mother's memory, and she could not endure a card. 
So I will have no play, if you please, to-night. We 
can have music, if it suits you. Bernicia can sing, and 
Miss Abney will lead us.” 

I cannot sing to-night, sister. It is impossible.” 


238 


BERNICIA. 


“ Very well, miss. No one will be sorry. Your voice 
is not beyond compare. Claire will be more obliging.” 

But Lord Rashleigh took on himself the onus of 
refusal. He said he thought he had taken cold in the 
storm, for he found himself hoarse, and would not 
trouble the ladies. Then, walking to the side of 
Bernicia, he asked her, in the hearing of all present, 
“ if she would give him ten minutes’ conversation in 
the morning.” 

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room ; 
the question seemed to fill it, and she felt the eyes of 
everyone on her face. Her resolution of silence ap- 
peared petty and even cowardly. She looked into 
her lover’s face with a steady gaze, and answered : 

I can see you to-morrow morning at half-after 
eleven. We do not go out until twelve, do we, 
Fanny ? ” 

“ The hour is indifferent to us,” answered Lady 
Pomfret, and she began to urge him to stay all night 
with them. But, he said, the temptation to cards in 
Lord Pomfret’s company would be irresistible, and he 
could not face it ; also that he had promised Sir 
Harry Cresswell to call at Captain Ball’s lodgings, 
and pass the night with them. With this explanation 
he went away, and Bernicia rose as soon as he disap- 
peared, and vowed the night was stupid and she was 
sleepy, and that Lord Rashleigh had spoiled the most 
interesting conversation she had ever had. 

“ Let me tell you something, my pretty sister,” said 
Lord Pomfret, as she made her good-night courtesy 
to him. “You are going to have a call from Good 
Fortune in the morning. If you are a wise girl you 
will not flout her away.” 


THE GREATEST PLEASURE OF LIFE IS LOVE. 239 

“ Yes, miss,” added Lady Pomfret, “ and before 
you sleep to-night, do not call her names, and fancy 
you are talking about Lord Rashleigh. Try and re- 
member he may any day become Marquis of Sand- 
ham, and that Rashleigh Court is one of the finest 
houses in all England.” 

“ If you could only see it, Bernicia, as I did one 
bright summer day ! ” said Lord Pomfret. “ It is of 
great size, built of gray stone, and nearly covered 
with ivy. The park is full of grand old oaks and 
dappled deer ; the gardens are delightful, and on the 
terrace I saw about a score of peacocks spreading 
out their gorgeous feathers. Inside the furnishing is 
complete in every way. I cannot imagine any girl 
longing for a fairer home.” 

“ I am not longing to marry a home, sir.” 

Oh, take your own way, sister ! I only told you 
of the home to help the man. To-night he was for- 
lorn and despondent ; and I should think Lord Rash- 
leigh would suit a proud girl like you down to the 
very ground.” 

“ He does not suit me.” 

“ Well, well ! I speak for your good, and you need 
not fire up to your finger ends. Women pass my 
understanding.” 

“ Dear me, John ! No one expects you to under- 
stand them,” said Lady Pomfret, turning suddenly 
upon her lord. “ Good-night, Bernicia ! Let me kiss 
you into a reasonable temper. If Lord Rashleigh only 
knew how to time his love-making it might be catching, 
but men have no intelligence in such matters. I am 
provoked at him. It is his own fault.” 

The next day had been appointed for the decora- 


240 


BERNICIA. 


tion of the house for Christmas, and when Lord 
Rashleigh called, everyone was busy in that direc- 
tion. Lady Pomfret and Claire sat in an inner parlour, 
surrounded by holly, mistletoe, and rowan berries, 
which they were tying into wreaths and ornaments ; 
and in the large outer room Bernicia and Jackanapes 
were winding garlands round the pictures, and set- 
ting up little boughs and bunches about the walls and 
the silver sconces. 

Bernicia turned from her pleasant work toward the 
door as Lord Rashleigh entered the room. Her 
arms were full of laurel ; there was a spray of white 
mistletoe berries in her black hair, and sprays of red 
rowan berries at her breast and belt ; and she stood 
among the boxwood and ivy with flushed cheeks and 
sparkling eyes, the very spirit of Christmas. Lord 
Rashleigh also had something of the happy time 
about him. The crisp frosty morning had reddened 
his cheeks, and his rapid ride had given him an air of 
life and expectation ; and though dressed for the 
saddle only, the dress was very becoming, and added 
that touch of robust manliness which he seemed to 
lack in the splendour of velvet and satin. 

He advanced smiling, with outstretched hands, but 
Bernicia took advantage of the green emblems which 
encumbered her own and, glancing down at them, 
made a courtesy in acknowledgment of his greeting. 
Then he turned to Jackanapes, slipped a piece of silvef 
in his hand, and sent him to stand at his horse’s head. 
They were then alone, and there was a look of deter- 
mination on Lord Rashleigh’s face Bernicia had never 
before seen there. It instantly roused in her a resolve 
to hold her own at all points, and she met his eager 


THE GREATEST PLEASURE OF LIFE IS LOVE. 24I 

gaze with one of enquiry and curiosity, cold, calm, and 
wonderfully captivating. 

Bernicia ! ” 

“ Miss Cresswell, if you are speaking to me. Lord 
Rashleigh.” 

“Bernicia ! Bernicia ! You know why I am here.” 

“,I am too stupid even to guess at your lordship’s 
‘ whys.’ You have done things lately which I could 
not have supposed you would have done ; you have 
left undone other things I should have thought you 
would have done at the peril of your life.” 

“ All I have done, all I have left undone, has one 
reason — my love for you.” 

“ I will shoulder none of your shortcomings ; and 
you told me plainly you did not love me.’’ 

“ I did not mean it.” 

“You said it.” 

“ Then let me unsay it all my life long. Be my 
wife, and I will tell you every hour that I do love 
you ; that I only live to love you.” 

“ Such a life would be extremely stupid. What are 
protestations worth ? Actions speak louder than 
words.” 

“ Tell me what I must do^ then.” 

“ I do not live to order your lordship’s life.” 

“Ah, but you do ! And you shall ! for unless 
you order my life I am but a dead man. How soon 
will you forgive me for not killing Mr. Abney ? ” 

“ I would never forgive you if you did kill him.” 

“ Grant me patience ! What do you desire of 
me?” 

“ That you would bid me good-morning. You 
see that I am full of business.” 


242 


BERNICIA. 


“ Tell me, first, how I have offended you.” 

She threw down the wreaths and stuck her small 
hands together. “Yes, I will,” she answered. “You 
made me an excuse for your bad temper and bad 
tongue ; you threw a quarrel at Mr. Abney for my 
sake, and then backed out of it. You insulted me 
once, twicey thrice, in the garden at Richmond. You 
said then plainly you did not believe in me, you did 
not trust me, you did not love me. Shall I take your 
word now, when you say you do love me ? It is not 
worth while. I do not believe in you now. I do not 
trust you. I do not love you.” 

“ Yet you shall believe in me, you shall trust me, 
you shall love me. I vow it ! ” 

“ There is no power in heaven or earth to so compel 
me. 

“Oh, but there is! There is omnipotent Love. 
Bernicia, you are so exquisite, so charming, be- 
yond all comparison, that I would rather live and die 
trying to win you than have the love of all other 
women. Your disdain cannot offend me. Your 
cruelty cannot weary me. When Christmas is over 
I shall go away from you, out of England altogether, 
until my twelve months’ pledge is over. Then I shall 
come back and give Mr. Abney a lesson in good 
behaviour, and ” 

“Pshaw! I do not believe that the men of this 
day would quarrel with a dog that bit them.” 

“ And then I shall see you again.” 

“ And then — you will awake. Pray let me hear no 
more. Boasting is a contemptible thing.” 

“ Let me boast, at least, of one kind word before I 
go away. Wish me a merry Christmas.” 


THE GREATEST PLEASURE OF LIFE IS LOVE. 243 

“ I wish that to all the world, sir, and I have no 
desire to except you.” 

“ Hang it, Bernicia ! Can you not make the wish 
a little kinder ? ” 

His persistence and good nature were irresistible. 
She smiled, and when an angry woman smiles she 
has lost the grip of her temper. 

“ By my soul, sweet girl ! I shall be most miser- 
able if you send me away without one word of hope.” 

“ I have been very angry with you.” 

“ Faith ! I deserve your anger. I do, indeed.” 

“You treated me most shamefully.” 

“ It is most true, and I am most sorry for it. 
Forgive me.” 

“ If I did forgive you, then you would presume 
a thousand favours.” 

“ I would presume one, which would include all 
others. I would say, if you forgave me, Bernicia 
Cresswell, be my wife.” 

“ Then I will not forgive you.” 

“ You mean you will not be my wife ?” 

“ Read my words just so.” 

“ Not yet. Tell me again the very truth. Will 
you marry me when I come back, a little later? 
Think, beloved one ! do not be in a hurry or in a 
passion. One year from now? Two years, then — 
five years ? Say yes ! Say yes ! Say yes, before 
I go ! ” 

“ I say, no ! ” 

He regarded her steadily with beaming eyes and an 
eager, questioning look. Her heart softened under 
his gaze, but the faint, scornful smile on her lips 
belied her heart, and he saw no hope beneath it. 


244 


BERNICIA, 


Yet he lifted the hand nearest to his own, and, press- 
ing it to his lips, asked once more : 

“ Are you sure it is ‘ no ' ? ” and she answered in 
a low voice, as she withdrew her hand from his : “I 
am sure it is ‘ no.’ ” 

Then he went away, but when he had closed the 
door he reopened it, swept her a bow with his hat to 
the very floor, and, looking bravely into her face, said 
with a confident air and manner : 

“ Miss Cresswell, sometime your ‘ no ’ shall be ‘ yes.’ ” 

The door was then closed with a determined clash, 
and she was wretched. She longed to call him back. 
She ran to the window and watched him mount his 
horse, and thought how handsome he was, and how 
his riding suit became him, and she hoped he would 
glance up ere he left the courtyard. If he did, she 
resolved to give him a smile that would recompense 
him for all her hard words, perhaps even bring him 
back to her presence. But he gathered up the reins, 
gave the ostler a piece of money and a few words 
which brought a smile to the man’s face, and then 
galloped out of the gates and down the road as if he 
were riding for his life. 

“ He is a kind soul,” she thought regretfully. “ He 
must have remembered Jasper’s Christmas wish, as 
well as his gift, for Jasper hardly ever smiles at any- 
one.” Then she went back to her wreath-hanging, 
but all pleasure had passed out of the work, and she 
knew that whatever Christmas might mean for others, 
it was spoiled for her. Presently Lady Pomfret 
entered. She had heard Lord Rashleigh gallop away, 
and as Bernicia did not come to her, she had a shrewd 
guess as to the result of the interview. 


THE GREATEST PLEASURE OF LIFE IS LOVE. 245 

“ Well, miss ? ” she asked, “ have you sent your 
lover away in a tantrum ? He galloped like it.” 

“ It is not my fault, Fanny, if people have unreason- 
able tempers.” 

“ So you have said ‘no.’ You will say that word 
once too often, if you do not take care.” 

“ Do not trouble about me, Fanny. I am all in 
a tremble, and out of spirits.” 

“ It stands to reason so. But take your own sweet 
will, miss ; you will be sorry enough, some day.” 

“ No, I shall not, Fanny. There now, I will say no 
more on the subject. I can hold my own very well.” 

“ Hoity-toity ! What a little huff we are in ! I’ll 
warrant you have both been giving each other the 
rough side of your tongues. And here is Harry again ! 
I wish to goodness he would get married to Claire 
and be done with it. Is not all this love-making 
a little tiresome?.^ Come and let us have some cold 
beef and a custard.” 

“ Anything, anything, Fanny, but love and kisses. 
I am sick of the whole jargon. If women had the 
choosing of husbands they would make a far simpler 
matter of it than men make of choosing wives.” 

“ Do not imagine such a calamity. Fancy what 
Lord Pomfret or Lord Rashleigh would be if you or 
I had chosen them ! What airs they would give them- 
selves ! What contradictions and complaisances we 
should have to endure ! They would give us kisses as 
a favour, and we should have to beg them for a smile or 
a little attention. And could you imagine what Lord 
Pomfret would be if two ladies were quarrelling about 
him ? My dear, the round world would not hold him. 
No, no ! Thank Heaven we have the power to say 


246 


BERNICIA. 


‘no.’ When we lose it the world will turn topsy- 
turvy. Come, the beef and custard waits. I dare be 
bound Lord Rashleigh has gone straight to his club 
and ordered a steak. Do you hear Harry ? How he 
is laughing ! When will he get married, I wonder ? 
Let us hurry the affair forward. What do you say ? 
Lord Pomfret is mightily tired of so much of it.” 

“ I say so. Talk to Harry to-day about it. I shall 
advise Claire.” 

“Can you manage Claire ? I think not.” 

“ Her heart has doubtless weakened her reason. 
It is always good-morning to the head when the heart 
is busy.” 

“ Then reason for her. After Christmas it will be 
Heigho ! for something to do and to worry about.” 

But it was not easy reasoning with Claire against 
her conscience. She had one answer for all the argu- 
ments Lady Pomfret, Bernicia, and Harry could 
bring : “ My promise has been given for six months. 
I can take no step till that time is over.” On this posi- 
tion she stood firm as a rock, and was even a little 
disagreeably resolute on the matter ; “ sullen,” Ber- 
nicia thought, when she would no longer discuss it. 
Then Harry turned traitor and stood by Claire, and 
said “ she was right, and , that, for his part, he was 
ashamed he had permitted his desires to put aside his 
honour for a moment.” And there was a little coolness 
for a day or two, and Claire suddenly determined to 
return to Bloomsbury for a month. 

Then Bernicia went the full length and breadth 
of the way of pleasure. She had lovers and ser- 
vants to answer her slightest smile, and she was the 
rage and the toast of the season. In her habit of blue 


THE GREATEST PLEASURE OF LIFE IS LOVE. 247 

and white cloth, and attended by Colonel Derby, she 
showed the loungers of the Mall and the Park what 
a Border girl could do with a horse of dangerous 
mettle. She was always one of Horace Walpole’s gay 
parties to Vauxhall. She was the beauty of the 
morning concerts at Ranelagh, and usually sat in her 
box surrounded by the flowers her gallants presented 
to her. There she sipped her tea or coffee to unceas- 
ing adulation, and finished the day at some noble 
house, where dining, dancing, and cards passed the 
reckless hours away. Or she went to ridottos or 
masquerades, or to Mrs. Cornely’s Harmonic meet- 
ings, or to the Italian Opera House. And everywhere 
she watched for Lord Rashleigh, but he had appar- 
ently disappeared and been forgotten. Not even his 
old associates named him to her, and she was finally 
driven to ask Lady Pomfret “ if she knew to what part 
of the world he had betaken himself and his temper ?” 

“ You have driven him as far as Constantinople, I 
believe, miss ; and, as Rashleigh never could keep his 
eyes off a pretty woman, I suppose a bow-string or a 
cimiter has made an end of him by this time. You have 
a dozen lovers present, why do you ask after him ? ” 

“ Because, Fanny, he is the one lover not present.” 

He has forgotten you. I’ll warrant ; and, for that 
matter, I think George Abney has done likewise.” 

At this moment Augustus Hutton entered, and both 
ladies turned to him with no end of questions. “ Had 
he done this and that ? Had he seen Mme. Crefor 
about Lady Pomfret’s fan ? Had he ordered the 
flowers for Ranelagh ? Where was he going in such 
splendid state ? ” etc., etc. 

Augustus said he was going to drive with Lady Hen- 


248 


BERNICIA. 


rietta Hobart ; and Lady Pomfret shook her head at 
him, and vowed he had the courage of a dozen men. 
“ A beauty without a penny of fortune ! ” she ex- 
claimed. “ Some day you will be charmed to such a 
pitch that you will ask her to marry you, and then, 
Mr. Hutton, can you tell me what will happen ? ” 

I hope I shall have the good fortune to be 
accepted by her.” 

And pray what will Mr. Hutton, senior, say ? And 
there is Miss Abney ! What are you going to do 
about Miss Abney ? ” 

When the time arrives for decision the way will 
open. I cannot go through a gate until I come to it, 
can I, Lady Pomfret ?” 

“ Oh, wise Augustus ! ” she answered ; and with 
that, Harry came in and asked Bernicia to go with 
him to Bloomsbury. “ You have not seen Claire,” he 
said, “ for nearly a month, and I want you to bring 
her back here. I am tired of George Abney’s sombre 
airs. Why do you not put the man out of his 
misery ? ” 

Does he ask for me ? ” 

He asked for you yesterday, and I told him you 
had the town at your feet.” 

‘‘ Pray what did he say ? ” 

“ What does a man say when he bites his thumb 
and draws his brows together ? He also enquired 
where Lord Rashleigh was, and I answered — at the 
ends of the earth for aught anyone knows of him.” 

“And then what ? ” 

“ He walked quickly away. Can you go with me to 
Bloomsbury ? ” 

“ I shall be ready in an hour.” 


THE GREATEST PLEASURE OF LIFE IS LOVE. 249 

So long?” 

“ I have to dress. If I am to put George out of his 
misery, I wish to do it handsomely. I should like 
him to feel a little disappointment.” 

Claire was really delighted to see Bernicia, and 
Bernicia pounced on Claire like a robin on a cherry. 
“ You naughty Claire ! ” she cried. “ You have been 
in the sulks for four weeks. That comes of being 
a saint. I, who am a sinner, would have found my 
temper in just four minutes. Fie for shame, Claire ! 
to make us all miserable because we wanted to make 
Harry and you happy.” 

“ Dear Bernicia, you wanted me to do something 
that was not honourable.” 

“ Gracious ! If I should go into retreat every time 
I was asked to do things not exactly honourable, 
I might as well get out of the world and be done 
with it. Fanny and Lord Pomfret want to see you, 
and do you happen to remember that in four more 
weeks you will have to decide between Augustus and 
Harry ? The 21st of March, Claire ! A great day ! a 
most important day ! the day before your wedding 
day ! ” 

“ My wedding day is by no means fixed.” 

“ 'Tis a pity, then. You will be in a nice pickle if 
it is not settled before the 21st of March. Harry will 
be neither to hold nor to bind. Uncle William will be 
urging and advising and perhaps scolding : there will 
be trouble, and no end of it.” 

Claire listened with an anxious face. “ There will 
be also Augustus Hutton,” she said. What will he 
say ? What will his father say ? Oh, Bernicia ! I do 
not know what to do ! ” 


250 


BERNICIA. 


“ As to Augustus, I shall manage Augustus com- 
pletely. As to his father, he does nothing but talk 
about his son’s familiarity with lords and ladies. I 
know a ‘ lady ’ who will make him very indifferent to 
your affairs. And as to what you must do, Fanny 
will tell you what to do. And grandmamma also. 
That reminds me — I shall go and talk to grandmamma, 
while you put on your frock and coat. Where is 
George ? ” 

At the office.” 

‘‘ How is he ? ” 

As disconsolate and gloomy as a rhan may be. 
Bernicia, you do certainly love him a little ? ” 

“A little? Yes.” 

** And will love him more ? ” 

I know not. I know not anything of what I may 
do beyond the ten minutes I give you. Do not keep 
me waiting longer.” 

Madame was delighted to see her granddaugh- 
ter. She smiled, she drew her face close to her 
own and kissed her. Harry had really set the door 
of her heart open, not only for himself, but for his 
sisters. She looked at Bernicia and was proud of her 
beauty and fine bearing. “ You are like Harry,” she 
said. She could think of no higher compliment. 
And Bernicia only wanted a little encouragement to 
love her. She kissed her gladly, and said, “ How 
happy, how noble you look, grandmamma ! You 
have grown ten years younger.” 

“ It is Harry’s doing. Tell me something of your 
life. Harry says you are famous ; that you have 
many lovers ; that you may even be a duchess if you 
will.” 


THE GREATEST PLEASURE OF LIFE IS LOVE. 25 1 

“ But I will not.” 

Is it George Abney yet ? ” 

She shook her head. 

“ Lord Rashleigh, then ? ” 

She shook her head again. “ I shall tell you, when 
I know myself,” she answered. 

The old lady was vexed when Claire took her 
away. She was enjoying Bernicia’s confidences and 
chatter ; her anecdotes of Fanny and Lord Pomfret ; 
her queer sarcastic comments on people and events. 
“You grow clever, child,” she said, “and sensible 
too, I think. Come and see me again, very soon.” 
She did not understand that it was herself who had 
grown loving ; and that with the enlargement of her 
heart she had become more appreciative of the excel- 
lencies of others. 

The question of Claire’s marriage, broached by 
Bernicia, became now the question of the household 
in Piccadilly. It was discussed morning and after- 
noon and evening. It was discussed singly, and in 
council. Harry talked it over in every light with 
Claire, and with Fanny, and with Bernicia. Fanny 
talked it over with Lord Pomfret ; and Bernicia talked 
it over with Tarset. Then everyone had their say in 
company : but the end of all deliberations was the 
same — Claire must marry Harry on the morning of 
the 22d. It was the only way to prevent disputes, 
and put an end at once to delays and proposals, which 
at the last could only terminate in the same way. 

At first Claire made a resolute stand for her guar- 
dian's permission ; but she was finally persuaded that 
it would be the greatest kindness to prevent him hav- 
ing to make any decision in the matter : 


252 


BERNICIA. 


“ He thinks a great deal of his promise to your 
parents, Claire,’' said Lord Pomfret, and therefore 
you ought to relieve him from any sense of breaking 
it. It is your duty to do so.” 

“ Blood is thicker than water,” said Lady Pomfret. 
“Harry is his own nephew; Augustus Hutton 
is neither his kith nor kin. Uncle William is not 
without nature. If neither his help nor his approval 
is asked, he will be glad enough that Harry should 
win — whether living or dead be against it.” 

“ There is another reason why Uncle William should 
not be told,” added Bernicia. “ Claire is a little 
coward, and Uncle William might send her to her 
room on her wedding morning. And she would never 
have the face to disobey him — the thing has been 
proved.” And Lord Pomfret laughed, and everyone 
laughed, and the resolution for the 2 2d of March was 
unanimously carried. 

But amid all the happy business of the next month 
Bernicia appeared to have the most to do. She was 
out so frequently with Augustus Hutton that their 
engagement was not only rumoured, but accepted by 
the majority as a fact ; for both appeared to be so 
happy, so full of affairs, so indifferent to the rest of 
the world. Singularly enough, Lady Pomfret took no 
notice of this fresh interest in Bernicia’s life. Usually, 
her curiosity would not have suffered it to pass ; but 
at this time she permitted Bernicia to devote herself 
to Mr. Hutton, and to go unquestioned concerning 
her motives or intentions. Not even Claire made any 
remark on the subject ; Bernicia had said she would 
“manage Augustus completely,” and Claire did not 
doubt her ability to do so. Her methods and their 


THE GREATEST PLEASURE OF LIFE IS LOVE. 253 

results were unknown, but everyone had a comfortable 
reliance on them. 

As the 22d of March drew near, Lord Pomfret 
visited the clergyman of his parish church, and advised 
him of the marriage. The rank of the contracting 
parties and Lord Pomfret’s prestige and generosity 
answered all questions. “ The young people,” he 
explained, “ were desirous to have a quiet wedding, 
and get away to Sir Harry’s castle with as little obser- 
vation as possible ; and for his part he thought they 
were right.” The clergyman thought so too, and was 
“certain that nothing likely to lead to publicity would 
attend the ceremony in the church.” And Lord Pom- 
fret was as proud of his diplomacy in the matter as if 
he had concluded a treaty between two great nations. 

Two days before the day Harry spoke of his marriage 
to madame. She was always inclined to discuss the 
subject with a little temper, and that morning more 
so than usual. 

“ Can you not be content, Harry ? ” she asked. 
“ Why do you wish to put an end to the days of 
your freedom ? A married man is never his own 
man again. Of course Claire is to be your wife, 
but why hurry the matter ? In a year hence, it will 
be time enough to talk of it.” 

“ No, mother ; I am anxious to go to Cresswell. 
The place needs my presence.” 

“ I thought your cousin Allan was doing very well 
for you.” 

“ Allan is not the master. I must go north in two 
days.” 

“ Two days ! Harry, Harry, you connot mean it ! 
It will break my heart to part with you.” 


254 


BERNICIA. 


“ But my darling mother, you will come to me when 
the summer comes. I would not tell you before, 
because I could not bear to give you pain. But now 
I must go, and I must take Claire with me.” 

“ Do you mean that you are going to marry Claire 
in two days ? ” 

“Yes.” 

She was silent for a few minutes. There was a 
great struggle going on in her strong loving heart, and 
she would not speak until she had got the mastery. 
Harry was sitting before her holding her hands, and 
watching for the first trace of her intention. It came 
with a sigh and a smile. She stooped forward and 
kissed him. “ My boy,” she said softly, “ I wish 
that you may be happy. I wish it, with all my heart.” 

“ I cannot be happy without your presence and 
blessing ; mother, you will come to my marriage ? I 
shall bring a carriage for you at half-past ten. You 
wdll not disappoint me ? It would be but a sad mar- 
riage without you.” 

“ Oh, Harry, how can I ? What will your uncle say ? 
And George ? If you had told your uncle I should 
have heard of it from him. Are you going to marry 
Claire unknown to him ? I fear you will get into great 
trouble.” 

“ Not if you are present. Uncle will not ques- 
tion what you sanction. You see, mother, it is this 
way,” — and then Harry went over every point which 
made the marriage, as arranged, a kindness and a 
necessity. “ Why should we begin a quarrel ? ” he 
asked. “ So many things are said in anger that had 
better never been said, and uncle will be very glad 
to be relieved from the cruelty of forcing on Claire 


THE GREATEST PLEASURE OF LIFE IS LOVE. 255 

a marriage she would rather die than submit to. 
When a condition is irrevocable, people make the 
best of it. Uncle William will do so also.” 

“ I will tell you what he will do. If there is the 
slightest chance of breaking the marriage — for you 
know Claire is yet a minor — he will invoke the law to 
break it. If she is a ward of Chancery — which I think 
likely — you can be punished with transportation to 
slavery in the colonies, or even with death for abduct- 
ing her. Take my advice, put off your marriage until 
Claire is her own mistress.” 

“ Before that time Uncle William will have forced 
her into a marriage with Augustus Hutton, or she will 
have fretted herself into the grave. Mother, I love 
Claire, and you know how important her fortune will 
be to me.” 

“ I know. But wait a little, Harry.” 

“ I cannot wait. All arrangements are made. I 
shall be married on the 2 2d, at eleven o’clock in the 
morning. Are you going to desert me — you, to whom 
I owe everything ? For while others talked and specu- 
lated about my pardon, you went to Mr. Whitefield 
and got the promise that obtained the pardon. Now 
help me to the wife that will make me happy and the 
fortune that will make me great. Dear mother, will 
you ? ” 

“ I cannot resist you, Harry. And if your marriage 
has to be, my presence is the only way to prevent your 
uncle making great trouble about it. Come for me 
yourself. I will be ready. Oh, Harry ! Harry ! you 
have made me to live again. I was like a dead 
woman when you came to me. What else can I do 
but bless you and pleasure you in all things ? ” and 


256 


BERNICIA. 


she lifted her face wet with the tears of love, and 
Harry kissed them away. 

The next morning he was at Bloomsbury mansion 
at the appointed time. He was full of fears lest some 
mischance should have detained William Bouverie or 
George Abney later at home than usual. But they 
had been gone for an hour and the house was in its 
customary still life. The porter looked with curious 
attention at Harry’s splendid wedding suit, because 
he wished to describe it to his fellow-servants. He 
thought of course that Harry was going to court, but 
why was madame going with him ? All day long this 
question excited the household. 

For only two of the oldest servants had ever seen 
madame arrayed as she was this morning : the por- 
ter, who remembered her splendours when Nicholas 
Bouverie was Lord Mayor of London, and she had 
given great feasts in the Guildhall, and her own 
woman Barbara, who had attired and dressed her for 
them. That was many years ago. They had almost 
forgotten the time. Harry started with admiration, 
and his unavoidable exclamations were the sincerest 
flattery madame could have had. She rose with a 
smile to meet him, and said : “ I do not intend to 
shame your splendour, Harry ! " and he answered : 
“ You are simply beautiful, mother ! I might well be 
proud to take you into the king’s presence.” For she 
had removed for the occasion her black garments and 
was dressed in a fawn-coloured satin, embroidered with 
silver, and trimmed with lace of priceless value and 
beauty, and round her neck were three long strands of 
magnificent pearls, the lowest falling even to the waist 
line. As she rose, Barbara advanced and covered her 


THE GREATEST PLEASURE OF LIFE IS LOVE. 257 

head and form with a hood and cloak of blue velvet 
lined with ermine. And it was wonderful to see how 
proudly madame walked by Harry’s side without one 
faltering step. 

“ She has found her years again,” said Barbara to 
the porter. “ There was never any right in her being 
so old. It was just sitting still and fretting for the 
days that had gone.” 

“ Ay, it does make a difference whether one looks 
forward or backward,” the old man answered, and 
Barbara and he watched the coach out of sight, and 
then went to the kitchen to talk over this wonderful 
event. 

The church was open, but it was still empty when 
madame and Harry arrived there, and the noble old 
lady and the splendidly handsome youth made a start- 
ling picture in the dim, dusty, silent church. Madame 
sat down in one of the pews near the communion rail 
and Harry stood by her side. ('Both were keenly 
sensitive to that spiritual aura which clings to places 
in which humanity for generations has poured out its 
spiritual life in prayer, and sorrow and adorationy^ It 
was a short interval of lofty and intense feeling, and 
then the clergyman in his white surplice, and Claire 
in her bridal garments, attended by a little company 
of gaily dressed friends, entered at the same moment. 

Claire leaned upon Lord Pomfret’s arm, but when 
they reached the altar Lord Pomfrethad taken Harry’s 
place and Harry was standing by his bride. There 
was no delay, and in a short half hour the irrevocable 
words were spoken, — irrevocable, because no after 
words can ever unsay or undo their eternal conse- 
quences and their eternal memories. Then the party 


BERNICIA. 


258 

adjourned to the vestry, and madame, in a clear bold 
hand, wrote her name first among the witnesses. An 
air of joyfulness pervaded the dingy little room : 
Claire was radiant as a bride could be ; Harry un- 
speakably happy ; madame proudly satisfied ; and 
the rest of the company breathing an atmosphere of 
sympathetic pleasure. 

After the signing of the register. Lady and Lord 
Pomfret entreated madame to eat breakfast with the 
bridal party ; and when Harry took her hand and 
kissed her, she could no longer make an excuse. And 
it was a wonderful breakfast to her. She sat at 
Harry’s left hand ; she drank the first toast to his 
happiness ; she was the beloved and honoured guest of 
everyone present ; she saw her granddaughters as 
she had never before seen them ; and as for Lord 
Pomfret, he took especial pleasure in paying her 
respect and attention. She was not able to find any- 
thing in him but what waS charming and good. 

When the breakfast was over, Claire and Harry 
departed for their Border home, and the company 
dispersed. Then Lord Pomfret made it a point of hon- 
our to take madame in his own coach as far as 
Bloomsbury. He was so eager to please her, so care- 
ful of her comfort, so determined to make her safety 
his own care, that Bernicia could not but wonder, 
until Lady Pomfret laughingly explained “ that it was 
her lord’s clever way to compass his own pleasure.” 

“ He wants to go to White’s, my dear, and he will 
take our grandmother home, to get there without 
question or opposition. La, Bernicia, I know exactly 
what his little plan is ! He will play the angelical 
all the way to Bloomsbury, then he will dash off to 


THE GREATEST PLEASURE OF LIFE IS LOVE. 259 

White’s, send home the carriage, and settle down to a 
comfortable night with the cards. But he has been 
obliging beyond everything lately, and I trust I know 
enough to sometimes know nothing. Let us sit down 
and have a quiet day. We have lived in a whirlwind 
for a month or more.” 

Madame was a little afraid that she would find her 
son at home, but he was even later than usual. She 
had plenty of time to remove all her splendours, and 
resume the modest black silk and white lawn which 
was her usual attire, and to knit several rounds in her 
stocking, before she heard his step. But she knew 
the moment he entered the house that he brought 
anger and trouble with him. He came to her speedily; 
his face, his deportment, his speech, all expressing the 
uttermost wrath and indignation. 

“ Do you know, mother, what this means ? ” he 
asked, in a stern voice. “ I have a letter from Claire, 
in which she says she has married my scamp of a 
nephew, Harry Cresswell.” 

“ William, your nephew is the finest gentleman in 
England. I say it.” 

“ He is a scoundrel of the first water ! But I will 
send the officers of the law after him. Do you know 
that he has abducted an heiress, and made himself 
liable to be sold as a slave to the colonies? Yes, 
indeed ! If I rouse the Chancellor in the matter, he 
will find it hard to escape the gallows. Why do you 
not speak, mother ? ” 

For madame, after looking scornfully into her son’s 
face, had dropped her eyes upon her knitting, as if it 
were her only interest. When William Bouverie again 
asked the question, she answered : 


26 o 


BERNICIA. 


When you talk like a reasonable man, and not like 
an angry boy, it will be time enough to answer you : 
as for the officers of the law, and the Chancellor, and 
the gallows, they are all nonsense.” 

“ I am talking of the law of England, and Harry 
Cresswell will not find breaking it all nonsense ! ” 
What has Harry done wrong ? ” 

“ He has carried off Claire Abney.” 

“ It was very imprudent of Harry, for he ought to 
have married a girl in his own rank, a lady of birth 
and political influence. I have told him so often. 
What does George say ? ” 

“ George does not yet know. He went to Green- 
wich early this morning on business. I did not get 
this letter until half-past three o’clock. But George 
is infatuated with Bernicia. I cannot depend upon 
George in this matter.” 

“ Then you stand alone in your opposition to the 
marriage.” 

“ What kind of a marriage ? ” he asked, in a passion. 
“ I will be bound, it was done in a corner, by some 
wretched Fleet parson.” 

It was done in Lord Pomfret’s parish church. 
Lord and Lady Pomfret, Bernicia, Sir Thomas and 
Lady Darner, Captain Bedford and Miss Bellenden, 
Admiral Graves and the Hon. Jack Capel, and the 
two Miss Sheridans, were among the witnesses to it.” 

“ How do you know this ? Have you also had a 
letter?” 

“I was present at the ceremony ; and at the wedding 
breakfast after it.” 

“ What ! I cannot believe it, mother ! You ! You ! 
How could you deceive and wrong me so shamefully ? ” 


THE GREATEST PLEASURE OF LIFE IS LOVE. 26 1 


“My dear son, what I have done, I have done to 
spare you, and all of us, a great deal of trouble and 
annoyance. Under existing circumstances you are 
responsible for nothing. You have made no decision, 
you have expressed no opinion, you have given no 
consent. Claire has taken the whole blame — if there 
be any blame — upon herself. As for abduction, that 
is sheer nonsense, if you please. For she gave herself 
willingly to Harry, in the presence of many reputable 
witnesses. She waited the full six months she 
promised to wait, and at the end of them found her- 
self more resolved than ever not to marry Augustus 
Hutton. I doubt myself whether Augustus wished to 
marry her.” 

“ Have you he^rd anything about him ? ” 

“ I neither saw him, nor yet heard his name men- 
tioned. William, there is nothing for you to do but 
accept what you cannot put aside. Had Claire waited 
for your consent, she might have waited a year, five 
years ; she might have died in the waiting, and you 
would not have given it. And all the time there 
would have been disputing, and fretting, and worrying 
without end. I say it was a wise thing, and a kind 
thing, to prevent this prolonged suffering — wise and 
kind for you, and for everyone.” 

“ Mother, I have been a good son to you. I have 
never at any time grieved you, and yet, ever since you 
saw this rebel grandson, you have put him before me.” 

“ Had you been in trouble, in danger, in poverty, as 
Harry was, I should have stood just as truly by you, 
son William. But what do you need of me ? Love 
asks service and self-sacrifice to keep it alive. I can 
do nothing for you.” 


262 


BERNICIA. 


“ You can do a great thing for me. Let me now 
tell you that I have loved for six years the sweet 
Marion Wilton, the widow of our late minister. And 
for your sake, because I would put no woman here 
before you, I have not asked her to marry me.” 

“ Then you have done Marion Wilton a great wrong, 
and you must repair it at once. You need not fear to 
bring her here, for my heart has renewed itself, and I 
am eager to love and to be loved. In the future I 
shall live much among my grandchildren, and learn 
how good each one is in his and her own way. I like 
Madame Wilton. Your choice of a wife is admirable. 
Bring her home, and the sooner the better.” 

“ Thank you, mother ! ” He was touched and 
softened by a consent so warm and so unexpected, 
and he said, in a much more natural voice : “ I can- 
not help feeling very anxious about Claire. It is a 
long, hard journey to Northumberland in the spring, 
when the roads are so bad ; and if what Allan Cress- 
well said be but half true, Cresswell Castle is far from 
being a comfortable habitation.” 

“ Harry sent a servant before them to secure at 
short distances lodging and fresh horses. As for 
Cresswell Castle, the central portion has been in the 
hands of builders and furnishers for four months. 
Woodwork and upholstery of the most splendid kind 
have been sent from London, and Allan Cresswell’s 
last advices said : ‘ The central rooms of the castle 
are now fit for a queen to dwell in.’ ” 

Where did Harry get the money for such extrava- 
gance ? He must have mortgaged the place.” 

“ He did. I hold the mortgage.” 

William Bouverie bit his lip suddenly, but said 


THE GREATEST PLEASURE OF LIFE IS LOVE. 263 

nothing in reply, and madame rose, with some re- 
mark about the dinner being more than ready. 
Neither, however, had any appetite for dinner, and 
what conversation there was referred entirely to Mr. 
Hutton, senior. 

“ I must see him at once,” said William Bouverie, 
“ and I am ashamed of my errand. How he will 
take the matter remains to be seen. He may insist 
on Claire's minority and legal inability to decide 
her own lot, and thus make all the trouble you have 
taken so much unnecessary care to prevent me 
making.” 

It was therefore with some trepidation he knocked 
at Mr. Hutton's door. If he had heard of the 
marriage, he expected to find him with his son, 
and in a very bad temper. He was agreeably disap- 
pointed. Mr. Hutton was alone and in the highest 
possible spirits. 

” Come in, friend Bouverie ! ” he cried. “ I was 
just thinking about you, just wanting to see you. 
What lucky circumstance brought you here to-night ? ” 

“ A very unlucky one, I fear. Claire Abney has 
married herself to my nephew this morning. It looks 
bad, Hutton, for me. It looks as if I wanted Claire's 
money for my nephew. Nothing could be less true. 
I have done all in my power to forward your son’s 
interest and suit. Take my word for that.” 

As William Bouverie made this exculpation of him- 
self, the father of Augustus was tapping smilingly a 
letter which lay under his hand. ‘‘ Bouverie,” he 
said, “ we are both a little behind our children. When 
and where was Claire married ? ” 

“ She was married at Lord Pomfret’s parish church 


264 


BERNICIA. 


at eleven o’clock this morning, to Sir Harry Cress- 
well.” 

And my son Augustus was married at St. Mar- 
garet’s Church at eleven o’clock this morning, to Lady 
Henrietta Hobart, an earl’s daughter, one of the old- 
est families in England ; lots of influence ! Bless 
my soul, Bouverie, I cannot take it in ! My son to 
marry a ‘ Lady ’ — an earl’s daughter ! It is past all 
whooping over ! ” And Hutton laughed aloud in his 
joy, and was even a little testy because his friend 
was not equally delighted. Indeed, Mr. Hutton was 
so excited over his son’s grand marriage that he would 
hardly notice the fact that Claire had a great deal of 
money and property and Lady Henrietta not a penny. 

“ She has blood,” he said, “ and blood is better than 
money. Augustus has plenty of money in his own 
right, and he can count on mine to help his out. 
And the beginning and the end of it is, the young 
people were in love ; and, after all, Bouverie, it is 
love that makes the world go round.” 

There was really nothing to be obtained from the 
elder Mr. Hutton but self-congratulations. He was 
so much excited over his son’s marriage that he took 
no interest in Claire’s, and the old promise, which 
had been such a vital thing to William Bouverie, had 
become to him a very shadowy affair. 

“ People could not look twenty years ahead ; it was 
nonsense,” he said. “ And as to giving marriage orders 
for babies in their cradles, it was a thing beyond 
reason. For his part, he was glad the children of the 
bond had broken it, and done so well in the breaking. 
It might have been broken to no purpose but poverty 
and shame. He thought they might have a bottle of 


THE GREATEST PLEASURE OF LIFE IS LOVE. 265 

wine together, and drink the health of the two fair 
brides and the two clever young fellows who had won 
them.” 

And while they were doing so, Bernicia sat thought- 
fully over her bedroom fire talking to Tarset. Lady 
Pomfret had gone early to bed, to pay up more ar- 
rears of sleep, and the house was very silent. “ I 
wonder, Tarset,” said Bernicia, “if this wedding will 
last through their wedded life ? ” 

“ I think it will,” answered Tarset. “ Lady Claire 
is good, fair, wise, and rich — that is, a woman four 
stories high ; and Sir Harry’s love for her is very 
great, and will better what is best in her. I wish 
that you were wed with as much good promise.” 

“Tarset, have you not yourself often told me to 
look well to the other horse before I ran in harness. 
Not every couple makes a pair.” 

“To be sure, miss. But, then, if you always say 
‘ no,’ you will never be married.” 

“Wedlock is padlock. I will not put my finger 
into too tight a ring.” 

“ Now, Lord Rashleigh ” 

“ Oh, no ! ” 

“ Mr. George Abney, then ? ” 

“ Oh, no ! ” 

“ Tush, miss ! They love most who deny their love. 
With either of these men you would be happily 
united.” 

“Yes, I know. I have often heard that in marriage 
two are made one. The question is, which one? 
Would Lord Rashleigh become me, or should I have 
to lose my identity in his ? About George Abney, 
there is no doubt of which one"' 


266 


BERNICIA. 


“ If you would feel more and reason less, miss, 
you might come to be a wife, else ” 

‘‘ I am sleepy. I will dream that I am in love. 
If I knew where Lord Rashleigh was I would send 
my dream to seek him. There could be no danger in 
a dream marriage.” 

“ Take your time, miss. Perhaps marriage is not in 
your destiny at all,' and 'tis well known that marriage 
and hanging go by destiny.” 

Then the wilful girl turned in a flash of temper 
and said : “ If it is not there I shall make it there. 
You may be sure of that ! ” 


CHAPTER XII. 


THE WORD LISTENED FOR. 

Madame sat long that night talking of the past to 
her woman ; for she was too excited by the unusual 
events of the day to sleep, and she was also waiting 
for her son’s return from his visit to Mr. Hutton. 
She knew the latter to be a vain man, having a strong 
consciousness of his own wealth and importance, and 
she feared he would resent to the utmost of his power 
the implied slight to his son. But William Bouverie 
passed the night with his friend. They easily slipped 
from their conversation about Claire’s marriage to an 
examination of Claire’s financial affairs, and a discus- 
sion as to the best possible manner in which to settle 
her estate on herself, and prevent Sir Harry Cresswell 
dissipating it, for as yet William Bouverie had formed 
no good opinion of Harry; he believed him to be 
entirely reckless and improvident. 

So George did not hear of his sister’s marriage until 
the following morning. It caused him no surprise. 
He had seen and understood the conditions between 
Harry and Claire from the beginning of their acquain- 
tance. Nor did he seriously disapprove of the alliance. 
He believed that the love between Harry and Claire 
was sufficient to reconcile all differences of faith and 
education. But he was much pained by the fact that 
he had not been trusted with their intentions, and not 

267 


268 


BERNICIA. 


asked to take a share in the nuptial ceremony. He 
was willing to admit that their desire to save Claire’s 
guardian all overt action in the matter was wise and 
reasonable, but he wished Bernicia had influenced him 
to take a part in their plans. She had not done so. 
She had feared it would give him too many oppor- 
tunities, and place him on too familiar a footing. 
And he set down the omission on the same list as 
Lady Pomfret’s supposed threefold denial to his visits. 

The subject admitted of endless dicussion, but 
neither madame nor William Bouverie looked at it in 
the same way as George did. Madame would not see 
that George had been badly treated. “You would 
have embarrassed Claire,” she said. “She always 
was a little afraid of you; and your jealousy would 
have kept Bernicia in a temper all the time. Bernicia 
was sure it would be better that you had nothing to do 
in the matter, and I think so too.” William Bouverie 
was of the same opinion. He thought there would be 
plenty of annoying suspicions and talk in the Silver 
Street Meeting. Many would say they had managed 
to keep Claire’s money in the family, and it was a 
good thing for Claire’s brother to be able to positively 
deny their knowledge of Claire’s intentions. 

One April day, when spring was at its loveliest. 
Lord Pomfret was summoned to Windsor on business 
likely to keep him for a week, and Bernicia said to 
her sister: “Suppose I go for grandmother? Let us 
give her one happy day, make a great deal of her, 
show her as much of the world as she would like to 
see. 

“It is a good thought, Bernicia,” answered Lady 
Pomfret. “After all, in spite of our friends and 


THE WORD LISTENED FOR. 269 

lovers, what two lonely women we are ! There is no 
one in London of our kindred but grandmother and 
Uncle William, and we see next to nothing of them.” 

“There is Lord Pomfret.”. 

“La, child! He is only a connection by marriage. 
But grandmother and uncle are of our blood, and if 
it came to will-making, we should feel it. Say we had 
not seen them for a year of Sundays, yet I’ll wager 
anything we should leave all we had to them, rather 
than to any of the dear friends and lovers that we 
dine with, and dance with, and make love to, every 
day of our lives.” 

So Bernicia went for madame, and the old lady was 
pleased to spend a whole day with her granddaughters. 
Fanny had surprised her on the wedding day; she 
could hardly believe that the gracious, cheerful, kindly 
woman was the proud, intolerant girl she had tried to 
influence on her first entrance into London life. Nor 
was she. In the intervening years, Fanny had rubbed 
smooth the angles of her character, and lost the offen- 
sive self-sufficiency which accompanies youth, and 
an especially happy and prosperous youth. She had 
learned to control her own wishes, and be thoughtful 
of the wishes of others ; and in fact, had become a 
much more loving and lovable woman. 

So madame went for one day, and she stayed four; 
further, she thoroughly enjoyed every hour of her 
visit. Her granddaughters took her to drive, and 
showed her all the notables on the Mall and in the 
park; interspersing their information with witty and 
interesting anecdotes — bits of charming gossip and not 
too ill-natured “hear-says,” traditions, love affairs, 
naughty gambling stories with good morals, and news 


270 


BERNICIA. 


of the court and royal family, told softly with slight 
pretences to secrecy. And what woman, old or 
young, very pious or very worldly, ever lived who was 
averse to such conversation? It may be listened to 
with advisory deprecations, or with genuine enjoy- 
ment, but it is listened to, and madame, apart from 
this natural love of hearing and seeing, was thoroughly 
under the charm of her two beautiful and affec- 
tionate companions. 

And though Lady Pomfret had no special entertain- 
ments during these four days, many interesting people 
called, and sipped tea, and talked of the masques and 
dinners they had been to, and told the news of the 
town. On the last day they went together to call 
upon Lady Augustus Hutton, and found her mixing 
a lemonade for her father-in-law, who was in a seventh 
heaven of proud delight at finding himself actually 
among the British nobility. And when they re- 
turned home they had a delightful little dinner in 
Fanny’s’ own parlour, and Bernicia imitated the old 
gentleman’s conceited antics, and discussed his 
remarks, madame and Lady Fanny adding pepper 
and salt to the conversation. They sat at a small 
round table and helped each other to the hot rook pie, 
and roasted birds, and delicious sweets; and in their 
pleasant privacy laughed and chatted about their 
acquaintances, and speculated and prophesied about 
Harry and Claire, and altogether had such real 
delight in their trustful confidences as they had never 
found in any public effort to be happy. 

Finally, William Bouverie’s probable marriage was 
spoken of, and Lady Pomfret said she was glad to 
hear the news. Madame, she said, would then be 


THE WORD LISTENED FOR. 


271 


far more with her grandchildren, and as she was the 
eldest, she would have the first claim upon her com- 
pany. Upon which Bernicia vowed she would choose 
a husband and marry forthwith, in order to get her 
share; “and is it not a mercy, Fanny,” she asked, 
“that Harry lives so far off ? for if he were in London 
grandmother would never give us a single day.” 

Madame enjoyed all this charming appreciation. 
She was wise enough to deduct from it the excess 
springing from the time, the circumstances, and from 
the spirit of its givers. Had she been still wiser, she 
would have taken it with all its sparkling foam and 
effervescence. She had four happy days, and on 
the morning of the fifth Bernicia took her back to 
Bloomsbury. She was really tired, and she went at 
once to her room, but she kissed the girl with an 
unusual emotion, and said again with an involuntary 
sigh, “You are like Harry, my dear.” 

As it happened, George was in the house ; in fact, 
he had purposely remained at home in order that he 
might go to Lady Pomfret’s and enquire for madame’s 
health, her prolonged stay having aroused some un- 
easiness. He was dressed for the visit, and awaiting 
only the proper hour when a formal call could be 
made. When he saw the Pomfret coach at the door, 
and understood from the attitude of both madame 
and Bernicia that all was well, he suddenly resolved 
to have that very morning from Bernicia an answer 
to his suit. He did not stop to argue the wisdom of 
this resolve with himself; he had come to that point 
where, sink or swim, wise or foolish, he would know 
the truth, and the whole truth. 

Very rarely indeed are such impulses wise ones. 


272 


BERNICIA. 


The power behind urging them may generally be dis* 
trusted ; but George cared not, and reasoned not. “I 
will make her speak; she shall trifle with my life and 
love no longer,” he said almost angrily. And then 
he went down into the great entrance hall, and paced 
its length to and fro, watching for her approach. 
She came sooner than he expected. He saw her pass 
the parlour door, a smile on her face. It brightened 
for a moment when s'he saw him, and then swiftly dis- 
appeared; but he took her by the hand, and led her 
to the state parlour. She made no opposition, for 
she was so busily thinking what she must do that she 
forgot altogether what George was doing, until she 
found herself within the room. Her eyes fell first on 
a large new painting that occupied a wide space on 
the wall opposite the entrance ; and she was glad of 
the diversion it might cause. 

“Oh, cousin,” she cried, “you have brought me to 
see the new picture! All gods and goddesses, are they 
not? Very ugly, too! Can you imagine live women 
with such cheeks and arms? And please to look at 
their ankles. I thank my stars that I am not a god- 
dess!” and she put out her daintily shod feet and 
admired them, and stood on tiptoe on them, and made 
George burn with the joy of her beauty. He spoke 
to her with a singular tenderness in his voice, 
saying : 

“Sweet Bernicia, I have watched and longed for 
this opportunity, and now that I have found it I vow 
you shall hear and answer me. Do you remember 
what hopes you gave me that morning at Richmond ? ” 

“Do you remember what passed after we parted 
that morning in Richmond?^’ 


THE WORD LISTENED FOR. 


273 


“Do you blame me for Lord Rasbleigh’s temper?” 

“No, indeed, you have your own temper! You 
have no necessity to get behind anyone else’s.” 

“That morning you promised to give me an answer 
when you returned to London. Weeks, months have 
passed ; and you still keep me in misery. Sit down, 
and let me talk to you.” 

“There is no help for it; since you vow, I shall'' 

“You spoke frankly then; you said you disliked the 
thought of marrying a man who was in trade, and 
who was a Dissenter. You feared your friends would 
cease to know you, and you confessed you were made 
happy or unhappy by what people said to you and of 
you.” 

“Indeed, I have not changed my ideas at all. I 
feel now as I did then, even more so.” 

“Then let me tell you that I have found a way to 
avoid this trouble ; to put it out of existence. There 
is across the Atlantic a great and beautiful city, where 
trade is honourable, and where no form of religion 
either adds to or takes from a man’s social standing. 
The king has his representative there; a little court of 
lords and ladies and officers surround him ; there is 
no lack of all the elegances and refinements of life, 
and the climate is heavenly. I will go there and 
found a great business. I will build you the most 
splendid house in America. I will give you every- 
thing you desire. I will love you with all my soul, 
and watch over your happiness continually until the 
end of my life. Will you go with me? If you love 
me, you will go.” 

“Am I to leave my brother and sister and grand- 
mother? Am I to cross the great ocean, and go to a 

M 


274 


BERNICIA. 


strange country, and live among strange people and 
strange customs?” 

“If you love me, I shall be sufficient.” 

“Do you wish me to worship in your meeting- 
house, or may I go, as I now do, to the Church of 
England?” 

“My God will be your God, and my Church your 
Church. I have many serious objections to Episco- 
pacy.” 

“Yes, I understand. Now, George, suppose you 
build or buy a fine house in London. Are you as rich 
as Augustus Hutton?” 

“I trust I should have a good balance in my favour, 
if I put down guinea for guinea with Augustus.” 

“Then why not give up business altogether as 
Augustus has done. Why not become a man of 
fashion and a Churchman? We could travel and see 
world, and as your sister has married a nobleman, if 
we entertained generously when we returned, people 
would forget that you had been a trader in hemp and 
flax and such things, and had gone to the Silver Street 
Meetinghouse.” 

“My dearest, you propose impossibilities. I can- 
not give up such a business as I now have; it would 
be wicked. I have none of the tastes necessary to 
a man of fashion. Augustus is fit for little else. And 
as for becoming a Churchman, it is beyond my nature. 
Dissent is in my very blood, it beats with my heart. 
I could not become a Churchman. It would be the 
rankest hypocrisy.” 

“Sir!” she answered, with a scorn that no words 
could interpret. “Sir! you are self-convicted. If 
you will not resign either your business or your 


THE WORD LISTENED FOR. 275 

Church for my sake, why should I give up my country, 
my friends, and my Church for your sake? Your 
selfishness is without parallel and without excuse. 
Love ;//(?, indeed! You love only yourself, your busi- 
ness, your prejudices. I wish you to understand, I 
will be no appendage to them. You shall not crumble 
my life, and my faith, and my tastes, and my happi- 
ness as sauce to your own. You are a curiosity of 
selfishness. And you call yourself a lover! Upon 
my word, you ought to be put into a book ! Do not 
touch me. No, sir, I will not be detained! I have seen 
to the bottom of your heart, and ’tis a very sordid 
and selfish one. Thank Heaven! I have not given 
a good honest one in exchange for it. I bless myself 
that I can still say my heart is my own.” 

“Bernicia! Bernicia! You misunderstand me.” 

“Not at all, sir. However you may cloak your 
demands, they are plain enough to me. You might as 
well say, *1 expect you to give up everything for me, and 
I will give up nothing for you.’ Yet my position in 
the world is all to me that yourbus iness is to you. It 
would be just as wicked in me to give it up. If you 
have none of the tastes of people of fashion, I have 
none of the tastes of Dissenters and traders. As for 
Episcopacy, it is in my blood and beats with my heart. 
I could not become a Dissenter. It would be the 
rankest hypocrisy.” 

She was splendid in her scorn and anger, and he 
was cowed, like a child that is struck, by the justice of 
her reproof. But it was only for a moment. Ere she 
could reach the door he had laid his hand upon her, 
and in tones of passionate sorrow was entreating her 
attention, her patience, her forgiveness. She listened 


276 


BERNICIA. 


with no sympathy, for she was deeply offended by his 
proposal. But George believed that she loved him. 
He knew so little of women that he thought her 
moments of tenderness were indications of a perma- 
nent condition, rather than of a transient mood. She 
had so often been angry, only to smile the sweeter 
afterward, that he refused to consider her present 
passion as real. And he had come to a fixed 
determination to put an end to such a tantalising 
relationship. She must then and there acknowledge 
her love, and pledge him her troth, or he must suffer 
her to pass out of his life forever. 

In eager, eloquent words he told her these things, 
emphasising them with the most endearing epithets, 
and the strongest determination that she should listen 
and answer. He took her hands and held them 
firmly; he compelled her to look at him; to see and 
to feel the overmastering love which radiated from 
his whole being and fired his tongue. And in some 
measure she was moved. His beauty, his grace, his 
authority of manner, his passion of entreaty, would 
have caused her to make some concession, some 
show of liking, but for the words he had so unad- 
visedly spoken. She felt keenly their selfishness, their 
injustice, the domestic tyranny they might include; 
and with a comparative resentment, his impatience 
also affected her unfavourably. But this impatience 
rose from George’s fixed idea, and he could not 
escape from his own determination. She must accept 
him as her husband, now, or release him forever; 
and he ended his pleading with this strong but blunt 
avowal: 

“It is therefore, dearest, a question you must 


THE WORD LISTENED FOR. 


277 


answer without put-oif, and without equivocation. 
You must say ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ Believe, Bernicia, 
though I love you to distraction, it is really now — or 
— never ! ’ ’ 

“Then, sir,’’ she answered, with deliberation, with 
her eyes fixed on his eyes, with her whole attitude 
expressive of conscious decision, “then, sir, it is 
never! Tt is never, never, never!’’ 

She passed out of the room as she said the last word, 
and he followed her, dazed, silent, with a slow, drag- 
ging step like a man physically wounded. The heavy 
front door was beyond the strength of her small hands; 
he went forward and opened it, and then followed her 
to her coach. She took no notice of his attention, 
but as she was driven away, his tall, straight figure 
and his white, pained face as he stood before her bare- 
headed, gave her a sting of remorseful pain. “But it 
is all his own fault.’’ She said the words aloud to 
her inner self, as if she would the more forcibly assure 
that not easily deceived personality. 

It was raining when she left Bloomsbury; it was 
raining hard when she reached home. “The elements 
are in a temper to suit my own,’’ she muttered. 
“What a dreary thing is life! And never a trouble 
but a man in it somewhere. But for George Abney I 
should have missed the rain; now, as like as not, I 
shall utterly spoil my new petticoat on the wet steps.’’ 

Lady Pomfret was reading a novel when she 
returned. She laid it down when Bernicia entered. 
“I am glad to see you, child,’’ she said. “Why, 
then, what is the matter?’’ 

“George Abney has been impatient and impertinent, 
and I have told him this morning I would never, 


278 


BERNICIA. 


never marry him. I ought to have said so a long 
time ago.” 

“So much for that affair! I am glad it is done 
with. But as you have now managed to get off with 
both your old loves, it is to be hoped you will be 
speedily on with one of your new ones. Whom do 
you like best?” 

“I am not so unjust as to be partial. They are all 
alike to me.” 

“I must tell you that Harry has sent us a letter. 
It is quite honeymoonish, I assure you.” 

“Grandmother has talked so much of Harry! Let 
us dismiss him for a little. I am tired of Harry.” 

“George ” 

“Is not to be spoken of at all. He wanted me to 
go to Amercia, to give up all my friends, my Church, 
my tastes, ‘my opinions, and to consider him as a full 
equivalent. ’ ’ 

“The wretch! I hope you gave him some sharp 
words.” 

“I am not in debt to myself, Fanny. A store of 
disagreeable things came into my head, and they 
naturally slipped off my tongue. George has evidently 
been watching me; he had the names and number of 
my lovers at his finger ends, and his ‘now or never’ 
this morning was all jealousy, proud jealousy, and 
burning envy. Let us talk no more of him. He says 
indeed he will talk no more to me.” 

“La, my dear! I have known better men than 
George Abney to lie.” 

Bernicia, however, was little inclined to follow her 
own expressed desire. She could not avoid speaking 
of George. She slipped into the subject very fre- 


THE WORD LISTENED FOR. 


279 


quently with her sister. She talked continually of it 
when she was alone with Tarset. 

Tarset said the conclusion was what she looked for. 
“You never loved the man, miss, for when we love 
truly, we not only say it, we show it. You never 
showed it.” 

“I shall never be in love, Tarset. Men are such 
disappointments. ’ ' 

“Your love hour will strike, miss. There is some- 
one somewhere that you won’t be able to love too 
much. Look at your face. To be born a beauty is 
to be born bespoke.” 

Still Bernicia could not throw off the unhappy feel- 
ing of her last interview with her lover. The April 
days were full of memories of him, and with all 
George’s faults, he had charmed her as none of 
her present lovers could. She was so dissatisfied 
and depressed that Lady Pomfret said pettishly one 
afternoon, when Bernicia refused to go shopping 
with her : 

“I trust, in Heaven’s mercy, we are not to have over 
again your love temper for Lord Rashleigh! You 
fretted and worried after him for two long months.” 

“I never did, Fanny! . Never!” 

“Oh, indeed, miss, you could not deceive me. I 
knew the meaning of your sighs and sadness, of your 
sudden hatred of lovers and dances, of your dinners 
set aside, and your dress uncared for. It took you 
two months to say ‘farewell forever’ to Lord Rash- 
leigh. For pity’s sake, make your good-by to 
George Abney less disagreeable.” 

“It is a shame, Fanny.” 

“It is the truth, Bernicia.” And Fanny went out 


28 o 


BERNICIA. 


alone to do her shopping in something of a temper, 
while Bernicia went upstairs in another temper, to 
worry Tarset a little. So the early spring passed, and 
not very happily. One little source of discontent 
in a house, even though it be unspoken, affects the 
domestic atmosphere; and though Bernicia pretended 
an unusual gaiety of spirit, she was really discon- 
tented and unhappy. 

“I have been a whole year in the gay world, Tar- 
set,” she said one day, as the woman was brushing 
her hair, “and what has it given me? I am no wiser. 
I am not more happy. Fanny says I have thrown all 
my good chances away. And I am not good. I want 
to be good, and the more I try, the more I fail. 
I wish I could go back to Cresswell.” 

“We never get our wish with wishing for it, miss. 
You may wish for a husband, and never get wed. 
'Tis better to will, for if you have the will, you are 
certain to find the way.” 

‘ ‘When I was last at Lady Huntington’s, Mr. White- 
field spoke to me after the sermon. He said he was 
going to Scotland this summer, and would call upon 
Harry, either as he went or returned. Think of that! 
Mr. Whitefield in Cresswell Castle ! Harry will make 
the whole world of him. I should like to be at Cress- 
well then. I daresay you would like it too, Tarset.” 

“It would be nothing to me. Miss Bernicia. I do 
not approve of Mr. Whitefield. I never did approve 
of him. I never shall.” 

“I am not very happy, Tarset.” 

“No one ever is very happy, miss.” 

The assertion covered the ground of Bernicia’s dis- 
contentment. She was not quite happy, and she was 


THE WORD LISTENED FOR. 


281 


afraid to honestly ask herself the reason why. So the 
old life went ceaselessly on — riding in the park, dancing 
in the ballroom, a little musifc, a little play, a little 
pretending to be in love. 

One afternoon in May Lady Pomfret received a call 
from Lady Orford, who had just returned from a long 
sojourn in various parts of the Continent. She was 
introduced to Bernicia, but took little notice of her, 
and Bernicia returned to her frame, and continued 
working on the rose she was embroidering. Presently 
Lady Orford spoke of a duel that had been fought 
that morning. “I was amazed when I heard of it," 
she said, “for Mr. Hope is timidity itself. I suppose 
he was too great a coward not to fight." 

The sentiment pleased Bernicia, and she said so, 
and thereon followed a lively discussion as to what 
constituted real courage. Lady Pomfret said she 
knew a gentleman who positively refused to fight when 
challenged, because it was against his principles, and 
she was sure he was a brave man. Bernicia laughed 
a little and said, “that depended." Lady Orford 
continued: 

“I know a truly brave man. I Avill put him against 
all the heroes of the sword and the pistol you can 
name. What do you think? He was travelling in 
France when I was there, and about sixty miles from 
Paris, in a lonely mountain hamlet, his servant was 
seized with malignant fever. The man required a 
constant attention, and the master sent to Paris for 
the Sisters of Charity, but until they arrived what 
was to be done? It was the black typhus, and no one, 
for either love or money, would take charge of the 
raving sufferer. So the master went to his servant’s 


282 


BERNICIA. 


side, he bathed his burning flesh, he moistened con- 
tinually his swollen tongue, he performed for him all 
that his dreadful necessities required. And when 
death ended the ordeal, he alone of all the village 
dared to go with the body to the grave. I say, rever- 
ently, the man was a hero; he, if you please, was a 
brave man, if there ever was one.” 

Bernicia had dropped her needle ; 'she was aflame 
with admiration. “I wish that I knew his name,” she 
cried. “It ought to be written in gold.” 

“I hope it was an Englishman,” said Lady Pomfret. 
“But English or not, the man had the courage of a 
noble soul.” 

“He thought little of his deed, and did not like it 
spoken of. He said his servant would have done the 
same kindness to him. If so, we are a nation of 
heroes.” 

“He was English, then!” 

“I think that he is well known to you. It was 
Lord Francis Rashleigh.” 

Bernicia uttered an exclamation and sank into her 
chair; glad that her sister’s effusiveness hid her own 
uncontrollable emotion. She stooped over her frame 
and pretended to have dropped her worsteds, and 
under this cover managed to leave the room without 
betraying her feelings. But she was profoundly 
moved and greatly astonished. Nothing in all her 
knowledge of Lord Rashleigh could have led her to 
imagine him in the character which Lady Orford had 
drawn so vividly, nothing, unless it was his evident 
admiration for Mr. Whitefield and his frequent attend- 
ance at Lady Huntington’s Sunday night service. 

She considered this fact, and came to the conclu- 


THE WORD LISTENED FOR. 


283 


sion that Mr. Whitefield’s pictures of Christ among 
the sick and suffering had been the inspiring motive 
and the supernatural strength which had helped him 
to fulfil the dreadful and dangerous duty. 

And then she was strangely solemn and sad. She 
also had listened to those eloquent Christ .sermons, 
and what had they done for her? She looked timor- 
ously at Tarset, and wondered if she could, for Christ’s 
sake, have fulfilled the same duty toward her servant. 

And after a day or two she told Tarset the inci- 
dent, and the woman wept a little, but did not praise 
Lord Rashleigh, a thing Bernicia had certainly ex- 
pected her to do. 

“It would be the Lord’s mercy to the dying man,” 
she said gently; “’tis few he leaves to die without 
some human kindness, and if they have to go alone, 
he comforts them himself. He says so, miss.” 

“I have been asking my heart, Tarset, if I could 
have done what Lord Rashleigh did. If I am honest, 
I must say I could not.” 

“But you need not be out of heart about the duty 
that has not yet come to you, miss. If it were here to 
do, I’ll warrant you would have the grace and the 
strength of the hour given you, and if it were to save 
life, or to ease death, you would push all lengths 
about it. I would trust myself to you, no matter how 
far gone I was. ’ ’ 

This confidence pleased Bernicia, and the event was 
very pleasantly present in her mind. Wherever she 
went, she spoke of it, and was often rather shocked to 
hear the comments it provoked. A few said “Lord 
Rashleigh was the right kind of hero’’ ; more thought 
it recklessness; some blamed him for “running the 


284 


BERNICIA. 


risk of carrying the dreadful fever among distinguished 
people” — “It was a singular step, and he had no right , 
to take it” — “It was quite uncalled for” — “What could 
he have been thinking of?” — “Very imprudent,” and 
so on. Not many praised the nobleman as Lady 
Orford had done, and many disapproved altogether of 
a social departure so destructive of the most necessary 
social barriers. 

So Bernicia was constantly employed in defending 
Lord Rashleigh, and she did not find the business disa- 
greeable. But she was led by it to wonder where her 
old lover was, and when Lady Orford had seen him, 
and whether he had any intentions of coming back to 
England. She propounded these questions first to her 
sister Fanny, but Fanny said “she had not asked any 
such information, ’ ’ and she affected no concern about 
the subject. “It was a brave little story,” she said, 
“and that was all there was about it.” For she per- 
ceived Bernicia’s renewed interest, and was not dis- 
posed to satisfy her curiosity. “It will help her to 
understand herself,” she remarked to Lord Pomfret, 
“and I am not sorry if she has a heartache for a day 
or two on the matter. And I advise you to pooh, 
pooh! the whole thing, or we shall have another 
attack of the Rashleigh fever.” 

“Then she might marry him,, if he had the luck to 
ask her at the right hour.” 

“It is no longer desirable, John. When a man 
becomes a saint, and goes gypsying all over the world, 
he is not likely to make a good husband. If Rash- 
leigh would return home, and take a place in the 
treasury, or his seat in the House, or even travel on 
His Majesty’s business, such a marriage might be 


THE WORD LISTENED FOR. 285 

feasible. But Bernicia is now very complacent to 
that handsome young Campbell. He is heir to an 
earldom, and I confess that I think better of this lover 
than of all others.” 

“He is Scotch.” 

“’Tis true. But all men cannot be English, John. 
You would not wish it. The world would be too 
small for them. Here comes Campbell ^and Bernicia! 
See how beautifully they ride ! I am sure there has 
not been in the park this morning, nor this year, nor 
the last ten years, so handsome a couple.” 

Bernicia came in glowing with her gallop, and full 
of the joy of youth and springtime, and Lord Pomfret 
made her many pretty compliments, which she merrily 
returned. Then Lady Pomfret urged her to dress for 
the carriage and go with her to make some visits. 

“If you will call on Lady Orford I shall go with 
you,” she answered; “for I am dying to know what 
has become or Lord Rashleigh. He is as much lost 
as a stone dropped in the sea.” 

“He has gone to the American colonies,” said Lord 
Pomfret. 

“Which report I do not believe, sir!” answered 
Bernicia. 

“To shoot elk, I hear,” he continued. “He will 
marry a brown princess, and buy a principality, and 
forget all about Rashleigh Court and England. 
Rashleigh is a queer fellow. You never know where 
you have Rashleigh. He is bad, he is good; he is 
here, he is there; he is one day this, and the next day 
that; he is anything and everything; that is Rashleigh 
— a good enough fellow for men, a dangerous fellow 
indeed for women.” 


286 


BERNICIA. 


“He is not half so bad, half so dangerous as you 
are, brother,” and with this laughing impeachment, 
and a promise to her sister of a speedy return, she 
vanished. 

Then the visit to Lady Orford was made, but noth- 
ing was gained by it. Plainly questioned, Lady 
Orford said she knew nothing of Lord Rashleigh’s 
intentions. She believed he had been visiting a Ger- 
man noble, and hunting in the Black Forest; but the 
incident she had related happened not so far from 
Paris ; and he might have been on his way to some 
seaport for India or America, or even home again by 
the longest way round, which was very likely to be 
Francis Rashleigh’s way. 

Bernicia took this information with apparent 
gaiety, not even her clever sister suspecting her dis- 
appointment. She chatted of Colonel Campbell, of 
the riding in the park, of the fashions for the coming 
season, of all the little incidents growing out of half a 
dozen calls, with an apparently light heart, and with 
an unflagging interest. 

So they spent the afternoon, and when they 
returned home they found Madame Bouverie lying fast 
asleep on a sofa in Fanny’s parlour. For. a moment 
they stood at the door, looking at the placid face, but 
the picture was swiftly gone, for madame awoke with 
a smile almost as they entered, and Fanny and 
Bernicia kissed her eyes wide open, and helped her to 
rise and to smooth out the least little crease or crinkle 
in her dress and headdress. 

“Do you wonder what has brought me so far, my 
dears? Let me tell you, it is something very extraor- 
dinary!” she exclaimed. 


THE WORD LISTENED FOR: 


287 


“Is uncle going to be married?” said Fanny. 

Madame shook her head. 

“Is George going to be married?” asked Bernicia. 

Madame shook her head still more positively. 
“Guess once more.” 

“It must then be Claire. Is all well with Claire 
and Harry?” 

“I am going to see Harry!” 

She said the words separately, and there was a ring 
of music in them. “I am going to see Harry. Your 
Uncle William is going, and Mr. Hutton,” and then 
she turned to Bernicia and asked: “Will you go with 
me, Bernicia? I wish that you would.” 

“Indeed, grandmother, it will be a great pleasure to 
me; and Tarset will fly out of her skin with delight. 
When shall we go? In a week or two?” 

“In three days. Can you be ready?” 

“There is no doubt of it.” 

“But I do not understand,” said Lady Pomfret. 
“Why are you going, grandmother? Why is Mr. 
Hutton going? And Uncle William? Is there any 
trouble?” 

“There is no trouble. Last night my son said to 
me: ‘Moth.er, Mr. Hutton and I are going to Cress- 
well. Claire’s business can no longer be delayed. 
There ought to have been settlements and contracts 
before her marriage, and the neglect of these things 
has placed her money in the power of her husband. 
We are going now to make the best terms we can for 
Claire ; but Harry has affairs very much in his own 
power.’ I answered, ‘Then they are well settled, for 
Harry Cresswell will do only the thing that is right, 
and I wish most sincerely that I was going with you.’ 


288 


BERNICIA. 


I did not think when the words came from my heart 
that such a thing was possible, but your uncle has 
persuaded me that my wish is not only possible but 
the very best and pleasantest thing that I can do for 
everyone.” 

“But how, grandmother? It was a hard journey, 
even for Bernicia,” said Lady Pomfret. 

“I had such wretched company,” answered Ber- 
nicia. “And it was in the early spring, when the 
roads were strangled in mud or snow. Now ’tis 
June and all England is beautiful. How are we to 
go, grandmother?” 

“You and I and our women will fill my son’s best 
coach. The driver and another man will be outside, 
and Mr. Hutton and your uncle will ride on each 
side of the coach. All the men will be well armed, 
and a servant goes before us, to order rooms and 
meals and look after post horses. We shall take all 
the time we need to see what we wish to see. We 
shall rest when I am weary and we shall not travel on 
the Lord’s Day. Your uncle is very happy with the 
thought of giving me such a grand holiday. Chil- 
dren, I have never been twenty miles outside of 
London.” 

There were tears in her eyes, that were not bred of 
sorrow. Her cheeks were flushed with anticipation. 
She talked excitedly of Harry, of the towns she would 
pass through, of the strange places she would see, and 
no young girl could have been more hopeful and 
enthusiastic. 

Three days seemed but a little time, but when the 
heart goes with the hands, a great deal can be done 
in three days. It was then Monday afternoon, and 


THE WORD LISTENED FOR. 289 

Bernicia was to be at Bloomsbury, fully prepared for 
the journey, on Thursday evening; and the party 
would leave there early on Friday morning. Fanny 
could hardly realise the change. Bernicia had be- 
come so dear to her, so much a part of her life, her 
plans, her hopes, that her sudden withdrawal was a 
shock. Everything now seemed empty to Fanny; 
she could not imagine how to pass the time without 
her. 

“Why not go to Yorkshire?” asked Bernicia. 
“Lord Pomfret has a handsome place there; surely 
you ought to visit it sometimes.” 

“My dear, it is a thousand miles from everywhere. 
It is unendurably lonely. I had enough of the country 
in Richmond last summer. Fresh air gives me the 
vapours. I shall stay in London and worry John, and 
grumble at everything until you return. When will 
that be?” 

“When grandmother returns. She will make Harry 
bring her back before the winter, for she is resolved 
he shall have a house in London and pass the winters 
near her.” 

“I am glad of it. Then, if you do not cross your 
destiny you may marry Leslie Campbell, and live in 
Campbell House, and I shall be happily employed in 
looking after both of you.” 

“Grandmother has the same intentions. So then 
Harry and I ought to be well cared for.” 

“But oh, Bernicia, my dear little sister, I have a 
heartache to part with you.” 

“’Tis but for a few weeks. They will pass like a 
dream.” 

“And when you return, you will have so much to 


290 


BERNICIA. 


tell me. I like to hear about newly married people, 
and Harry and Claire’s tiffs and tribulations will be 
particularly interesting.” 

“Do you believe they will have any tiffs and tribula- 
tions?” 

“Do you think two lives are made one without a 
good deal’ of pressure of some kind or other? Lord 
John had to bear a good many tiffs before he got into 
his proper place. And never doubt me, the little 
saint, Claire, has a will that matches Harry’s very 
completely. I think, indeed, that I would rather stake 
on Claire than on Harry. But I shall be glad to 
know how the battle goes and I hope Harry will win 
it, for I think a woman that does not obey her lord 
a most disagreeable creature,” and Fanny laughed 
and looked at Bernicia, and when Bernicia would 
have spoken she added: “lam not in the question 
at all. I am the exception, my dear, and nobody 
knows it.” 

For once the anticipation of a pleasure did not 
exceed the reality. All that madame and Bernicia 
had hoped from their leisurely, comfortable trip, they 
enjoyed to the full. The weather was charming, the 
roads in good condition; and the whole party in ex- 
cellent health and spirits. Mr. Hutton knew the name 
of every nobleman’s seat they passed, and he generally 
an had anecdote to tell of them, which in some way 
included his son. William Bouverie was happy in his 
mother’s childlike delight, and in Bernicia’s pleasant 
chattering and unfeigned high spirits. And thus, 
through the length of England, by old historic cities 
and lovely hamlets, slowly but happily, they came to 
Cresswell Castle. They had stayed the last night of 


THE WORD LISTENED FOR. 


291 


their journey at Yettington, and about noon the next 
day came' in sight of the castle; its gray, massive 
strength spreading for nearly a hundred feet across 
the green hill in front of them. The June sunshine 
was over all its fa9ade and turrets, and the Cresswell 
standard floated proudly from the central tower. 

Harry and Claire had been apprised of their ap- 
proach, and were watching for them; and for the next 
two weeks there was such splendid entertaining, such 
exhibition of North Country games, such mounting and 
riding and racing, such trout fishing in bosky glens, 
such happy picnicing lunches between morning and 
afternoon catches, such evenings of conversation and 
wild Border music and song, as Cresswell had never 
before seen, even in the proudest days of its past his- 
tory, and as William Bouverie and his friend had never 
dreamed of, but which they both thoroughly enjoyed. 
For the business which had brought them to Cresswell 
was satisfactorily decided. Harry proved himself 
generous and Claire’s guardians had only to look 
around them to see that he was prudent and well able 
to keep and improve the estate of which he was lord 
and master. So William Bouverie went back to 
London satisfied that Claire’s heart had chosen wisely 
for her, and Mr. Hutton was never weary of informing 
everyone he spoke to, that he had been on a visit to 
Sir Harry Cresswell at Cresswell Castle, Northumber- 
land ; and what he saw there, and what he did there 
furnished him with conversation for the future, in all 
companies and under all circumstances. 

As for madame, she was happier than she had ever 
been in her whole life. Her nature, naturally noble, 
expanded with the freedom of her new experience, 


292 


BERNICIA. 


The mountains, the great silent moors, the music of 
the running streams, the natural song of birds, the 
tangled sweetness of the large garden, the wealth of 
its berries and fruits, the murmur of its colony of bees 
in their straw skeps above the lavender beds — all these 
things were as fresh to her as to a child; and she was 
old enough to have found again her child’s heart, and 
to enjoy them with a natural simplicity and single- 
mindedness. Then, beside, there was the joy of 
Harry’s constant presence; the joy of watching him 
in his proper position; the satisfaction of remember- 
ing the part she had taken toward restoring him 
to it; and the pride and pleasure she experienced 
in his affectionate respect for her person, and 
in his pronounced deference to her opinions and 
wishes. 

But madame’s glad and joyful contentment was not 
entirely shared by Bernicia. Cresswell had in some 
measure disappointed her, and she did not find life 
there as delightful as she expected to find it. The 
castle in its central portion had been restored and 
refurnished with the utmost splendour, and there were 
men at work on the outer wings and turrets, under 
the personal direction of Harry and Claire. But 
when the admiration for the new wore off, then 
Bernicia regretted the old. She found among the 
cottages her mother’s worn and frayed armchair, and 
she bought it, and had it taken to her newly furnished 
chamber, and Tarset mended and polished it, drop- 
ping tears upon her work, and talking the while to 
Bernicia of the days that were gone forever. 

The new lady of Cresswell was not like the last lady. 
She had been accepted, but she had not yet reached 


THE WORD LISTENED FOR. 


293 


the heart of any of her servants or tenants. And 
Bernicia was keenly conscious of that change which 
invariably separates the very friends of girlhood, 
when one of them marries. She had never in London 
found it difficult to spend whole days with Claire; 
they had always plenty to talk about. Now there was 
no confidence between them, for Claire’s affairs were 
Harry’s affairs, and she guarded all about Harry with 
an honour that was slightly tinged with jealousy. She 
liked to think there were circumstances and intentions 
which none but herself shared with her husband. She 
was a little piqued at Harry’s frankness with his 
grandmother and sister; if they were to be made free 
of her life, she wanted to be herself the donor of the 
grace — it was' less pleasant to feel that they expected 
it, as Harry’s kindred. 

So there was often little unexpressed coldnesses 
which Bernicia felt, without having any apparent rea- 
son for complaint. And perhaps she had less reason 
than she imagined; for it was natural that Claire 
should be reticent about her married life; it was 
necessary she should assume the dignity of her posi- 
tion; and, as she was eminently one of those women 
who feel it a duty to look well to the ways of her 
household, it followed that she had little time for the 
petty frivolities and speculations in which she had 
once passed so many hours with her friend. 

But Bernicia took none of these things into her 
consideration. Claire had always been eager to talk 
to her about Harry when Harry was her lover; why 
was she so averse to speak of Harry when he was her 
husband? Before her marriage she had deferred con- 
stantly to her friend’s superior knowledge, and had ad- 


294 


BERNICIA. 


mired and imitated her; why, then, as Lady Cress- 
well, did she hold herself with such reticent dignity 
that Bernicia found it very difficult to advise her 
in any matter? If she did so, Claire was sure to 
reply, “I will consult Harry. He will know what is 
best to be done.” As for her small importances in 
her new position as mistress of a great household, they 
irritated Bernicia. She remembered her mother’s 
easy indifference to the matter, her sweet familiarities 
with her inferiors, her natural tolerance for the ignor- 
ance of servants who had never been beyond their 
own hills and valleys. She thought Claire too orderly, 
too particular, too careful, too sensible of her own 
position, her wealth, and her various other excellen- 
cies. And though she would not say these things to 
madame, she suffered Tarset to see her disapproval in 
many ways. 

As the months wore on she began to long for Lon- 
don. She was tired of riding with Harry, tired of his 
“improvements.” The fine families in the neighbour- 
hood were not interesting. Madame wearied her with 
perpetual praise of Harry, and Harry himself was not 
quite the same Harry. He had become absorbed in 
Cresswell. He spoke of every acre of the land, and 
every stone of the castle, as if they were the only land 
and stone in England. He felt the great outlay of 
money necessary, and he was economical. Ber- 
nicia said “he was catching the trading spirit from his 
wife.” But in truth, no change had come to Harry, 
but the change which comes lawfully with great 
responsibilities. In London he had not felt them, for 
he had then been bent only on securing the woman of 
his heart’s desire; but when they touched him on 


THE WORD LISTENED FOR. 295 

every side, he bound himself with their obligations, 
and was more sober and thoughtful under them. 

So there were often coldness and shadow in the 
splendid home, not the less positive because it was 
unacknowledged, and therefore unforgiven. One 
morning in September Bernicia took a scamper over 
the hills with Harry. They were tempted by the brisk 
air and lovely sunshine to a longer ride than they had 
intended, and lunch was delayed, and the household 
thrown out of order. Bernicia was in high spirits, 
however, and Harry was laughing at her, and with 
her, as they leaped from their saddles, in a little 
tempest of hurry and excitement. Claire smiled 
faintly, and said never an angry word, but in five 
minutes she had managed to so cool their enthusiasm 
and their exuberant tempers that the meal was fin- 
ished in the most decorous silence. There had not 
been one cross word, not one unpleasant look, yet Ber- 
nicia left the table in a passion which caused Claire 
to look after her in astonishment, and to ask Harry, 
“Pray, now, what is the matter with your sister?” 

“Some feminine vexation,” he answered promptly. 
“Ask yourself about it, Claire. She was all good 
nature and vivacity with me.” And Claire sighed 
and looked at madame, who smiled back at her with 
a bland unconsciousness. 

But Bernicia, alive with temper from head to boot, 
had flown to Tarset to explain herself. 

“I wish I were with Fanny!” she cried. “Fanny 
scolded me, and I scolded Fanny, and then we kissed 
each other, and there was an end of the worst of our 
troubles. Oh, Tarset, I want to go back to Fanny! 
I want to go back to London.” 


296 


BERNICIA. 


“I don’t wonder, miss. Lady Claire is very good, 
but blood is thicker, aye, and it’s kinder, than water. 
And London is none so bad.” 

“Oh, Tarset! do you want to go back too? I am 
so happy.” 

“I won’t leave you, miss. Places are pretty well, 
but people are better. And some people spoil places. 
I loved the old Cresswell. I won’t break my heart to 
leave the new Cresswell.” 

Then they had a little confidence, and after it Ber- 
nicia went to madame and rushed into the middle of 
her troubles and desires at once, one complaint upon 
the neck of another. Madame did not contradict her 
in anything; indeed, she listened with a sympathy that 
greatly pleased and comforted her granddaughter, 
and when she spoke, it was to assure her of her 
desire. 

“I have been already talking to Harry,” she said, 
“about returning to London. It is in the way of his 
interest to do so. In a few months he will have to 
accept the entire charge of his wife’s estate. The 
investments belonging to it are mainly in London, 
and he must be there to understand them. And of 
course Harry must have a home in town; he can be 
in London at least half the year. I do not wish to 
come here again, but I want my children around me 
as much as possible.” 

“Fanny will always be near you.” 

“And I hope you will not be far away, Bernicia. 
Harry tells me you have a lover called Campbell, who 
is all he could desire for you, and that with him you 
would live mainly in London. I want you near me, 
Bernicia, so if you can marry him let me be happy.” 


THE WORD LISTENED FOR. 


297 


Then Bernicia kissed her grandmother and went 
away comforted by the hope of seeing her sister again 
so very soon. 

Toward the dinner hour there was a different 
atmosphere in the house ; a sense of something un- 
common, which yet was pleasantly uncommon. The 
feeling was so evident that it pervaded the corridors 
and the stairways and the upper rooms with a sense 
of peace and of humanity at its best. Bernicia 
bowed her restless mood to it, and went down at the 
dinner hour determined to be happy. George White- 
field was sitting with Harry ; and she knew then, the 
master spirit in the house. He had come for two 
days only, but they were wonderful days to the lonely 
hamlet among the hills of the Humber. All the next 
day men were riding hither and thither, shouting to 
the shepherds on the hills the tidings: and tarrying it 
into the “keeps” and halls of the neighbouring gentry, 
so that at five o’clock the following afternoon there 
was a great congregation on the sloping meadows of 
Cresswell. 

And Whitefield remembered that he was speaking 
mainly to shepherds, and he preached to them of 
David, whom God chose from the sheepfolds “when 
he was following the ewes great with young; that he 
might feed Jacob his people, and Israel his inheri- 
tance.” And the sun set as he spoke, and the sweet 
gray gloaming fell over the land, but no one moved. 
His beautiful face and form, vibrating with life and 
feeling, rivetted all eyes; his words, resonant and 
musical, thrilled all hearts, pierced all consciences, and 
held both young and old breathless. For this God- 
fraught, love-fraught man showed them, as no one had 


298 


BERNICIA. 


ever before done, the relationship of man to God as 
an immortal and accountable being, guilty, but yet 
redeemed. 

He preached until the gloaming was lost in the light 
of the full yellow harvest moon, and then the people 
began to slowly and reluctantly disperse. The women 
stopped in little groups to talk; the men wandered 
silently to their folds on the fell-sides ; the few gentry 
who had been present galloped away, each one his 
own road homeward, and the party from the castle 
began to leisurely take the shortest way back to it. 
Madame had not been present, and Tarset had 
remained with her. Madame was afraid of the damp, 
and Tarset was resolved not to listen to the preaching 
of a clergyman against whom the bishops inveighed. 
So Mr. Whitefield walked with Harry and Sir Richard 
Hardwicke, and Claire and Lady Hardwicke and Ber- 
nicia followed. Many of the villagers had gathered 
along the route, and to some of the very aged, Mr. 
Whitefield said a few cheering words, while the young 
mothers lifted their little children to his arms for a 
blessing; so that they were constantly delayed by one 
person or another. 

Bernicia felt suddenly tired of this high tide of 
spiritual feeling, and she fell behind her party to 
gossip a little with her favourite. Gammer Hole. 
Gammer had seen everybody at the preaching, and if 
others had been too interested to notice the party of 
Yetholmn gypsies who mingled with the crowd she 
had not. She knew right well there would be empty 
hen roosts among the farmers, and lost watches among 
the gentry, to pay them for their presence. It was a 
relief to return to such a material plane, though Ber- 


THE WORD LISTENED FOR. 


299 


nicia sighed as she did so, and wished it were other- 
wise; even while she frankly acknowledged that it 
rested her. 

“And I will not hurry myself homeward," she 
thought, as she turned into the sweet, silent garden. 
“I am tired of being talked to, and I am tired of talking. 
I will sit in this heavenly moonlight and think a little." 

Her heart was beating to its best influence; she 
mused over her past and was sorry for its follies and 
mistakes, and naturally she remembered Lord Rash- 
leigh, for he had been intimately associated with most 
of them, and she wondered to find herself forgetting 
his beauty, his grace, his rank, even his patient deter- 
mined love for herself, in that one memory of his 
human kindness to his servant. She had had nothing 
to do with this action, and yet above all else it im- 
pressed her. She tried to put it away, to think of 
him rather, coming spent and breathless and laughing 
into her presence at Richmond with the news of 
Harry’s pardon, of his quarrel with her in the garden 
there, of his farewell among the Christmas greens ; but 
all memories were lost in that one memory of the man 
nursing, through those terrible days and nights, his 
dying servant. It filled her imagination. As she sat 
there, moved by the hour and all its sacred and lovely 
influences, she knew that the gay courtier had touched 
only her fancy. It was this solitary mourner by his 
servant’s grave that stirred her deepest feeling and 
her noblest nature. This was the man she loved. 
If ever she had the opportunity again, she was 
resolved he should feel it. Then, if the voice of 
her heart had been audible, she would have heard 
herself call him, with a passionate longing. 


300 


BERNICIA. 


Presently she was aware of footsteps on the flagged 
walk, leading toward the large apple tree under which 
she was sitting. She made a fixed determination not 
to go into the house. She knew it was Harry coming 
for her. She was wanted to talk, or to sing, or to 
help Claire, or to amuse Lady Hardwicke, and she 
was resolved to do none of these things. “It is far 
better to sit alone in the moonlight,” she thought, 
“and I shall tell Harry I must have a few moments, 
now and then, to get acquainted with myself. I 
suppose Claire has sent for me. Well, I will 
not go.” 

Swift as these reflections were, the hurried steps 
overtook them, and as they came closer, some pecu- 
liarity, not Harry’s, arrested her attention. She 
stooped forward and looked at the approaching figure ; 
it was slim, and elegant, and bareheaded, but it was not 
Harry. It was the man she had been dreaming of; it 
was Lord Francis Rashleigh. He had answered that 
cry of her heart ; he was coming swift as her desire. 
She stood up, she put out her hands, she lifted her 
head to meet him. Some wondrous feeling, some 
mighty attraction enveloped her as in an atmosphere, 
and they really met in each other’s arms; though 
there was no outward expression of such embracing. 
Yet some influence just as potent gave assurance to 
her lover. He stood before her ; he said : 

“I am here again, Bernicia. I have been east and 
west, and you have drawn me like a magnet back to 
you.” 

She smiled at him so kindly and so brightly that he 
dared to take her hands and ask: 

“Adorable Bernicia! Is it still to be No'i ” 


THE WORD LISTENED FOR. 


301 


She shook her head a little, and looking into his 
face with shining eyes, said softly, “iVi?.” 

“Then at last, at last, it is Yes ! “ and he drew her 
within his arms, and bent his face to catch the happy 
word. And she said with a great gladness: ‘ Tt is Yes^ 
with all my heart! “ 

And no tongue or pen is free of such blessed 
language as followed this confession. The hearts and 
the lips of these two only knew its meaning. To 
other mortals its sweet music and sweeter pauses 
would have been as difficult to translate as the nesting- 
song of the bluebird, or the midnight ecstacy of the 
love-enraptured nightingale. 

All such transporting moments are necessarily of 
short duration; the soul bound to its “house of clay, 
whose foundations are in the dust” cannot long escape 
from its conditions and necessities, and Bernicia 
remembered the speculations which her continued 
absence would be likely to cause. Then also she 
remembered for the first time since their strange 
meeting to ask Lord Rashleigh “by what fortune he 
had found her, just in that place, and at that hour,” 
and he answered: 

“It was my happy fate to arrive when only Madame 
Bouverie and your woman were in the castle. Madame 
gave me welcome and refreshment, and I told her all 
my love and hopes and fears, and asked for her help 
and favour. She wished me success, and as soon as 
she perceived that you were not with your brother and 
his friends, she showed me a private door into the 
garden, and told me to seek you there, ‘straight for- 
ward and turn to the right,* she said ; ‘and I think you 
will find Bernicia on the bench under the great apple 


302 


BERNICIA. 


tree.’ And oh, my adorable girl, I found you there! 
and with you love, and joy, and the greatest good 
fortune I shall ever know in this life.” 

“But now we must think of others as well as our- 
selves. Claire is already wondering, and she will stir 
Harry to wonder; and Sir Richard and Lady Hard- 
wicke are with us, and Mr. Whitefield also.” 

“Mr. Whitefield! Yes, madame told me so. Oh, 
Bernicia, I have a delightful idea! What do you say? 
Shall Mr. Whitefield marry us to-morrow?” 

“You take my breath away! No, indeed, sir! 
Do you imagine I will have such a hole-and-corner 
marriage as that would be? It is out of the question! 
I will be married in St. Paul’s and nothing less than 
the Bishop of London shall put you through your 
questions. And the court and the town shall hear 
you answer them.” 

“Oh, my charmer!” laughed Lord Rashleigh; “I 
shall answer them to the whole world.” 

“Well, sir, these things at least. How much more 
sister P'anny will insist on, I know not.” 

“I think if she has her way, she will send us bounc- 
ing into matrimony with a flourish of trumpets; but 
I am prepared to go all lengths to call you my 
own.” 

In this supposition they were quite correct. Before 
Bernicia reached London, Fanny had made the most 
extravagant plans for the wedding. “Claire’s,” she 
said, “was a wedding under a bushel, and Bernicia’s 
will be the last in the family, and we must set the 
newspapers going, and women talking, and make a 
nine-days-and-threefold wonder of it.” And Lord 
Pomfret was ready to do anything that would so con- 


THE WORD LISTENED FOR. 303 

spicuously blend his name with such a favourite of the 
royal family as Lord Rashleigh was known to be. 

Bernicia had done well for herself, and her home- 
coming was a little triumph, though Lady Pomfret 
was obliged to wait for nearly three weeks for her 
return after the news of the engagement had been 
received. Naturally, she with was 'cross every one of 
the party for this delay. “Why did not Bernicia 
hurry? The idea of waiting for Claire, who was 
always slow. Or for madame, who was not able to 
travel quickly. Or for Harry, who always wanted to 
see every old castle and battle ground within ten 
miles off the road.” She got up in the morning plan- 
ning and hoping, she went to bed at night disap- 
pointed and scolding; but the longest wait comes to 
an end, and at last she received word that her sister 
was within ten miles of London, and would be with her 
to lunch. 

She was as impatient as a child for a holiday. Her 
ears perceived no sound but the rumble of wheels, and 
finally the welcome sound did really come into the 
courtyard. She was at the door in an instant. On 
the very steps she took Bernicia in her arms; and 
then shook her a little by her shoulders; and then 
kissed her on both her cheeks, and twice on her lips. 

“You are as lovely and as provoking as ever!” she 
cried, taking her by the hand into her own room, and 
while helping her to remove her cloak and bonnet, 
calling directions about the trunks, and the lunch, and 
the fire in Bernicia’s apartment. 

‘T am so glad you got rid of everyone! Where 
have you left the rest of your party?” 

“Harry and Claire went with grandmother to 


304 


BERNICIA. 


Bloomsbury, until Harry can rent a house suitable to 
his rank; and Lord Rashleigh left us at the gate. He 
was sure I would wish to be alone with you for a little, 
and he will not call until the dinner hour.” 

“Avery Daniel in wisdom! Now, child, tell me 
everything. First, about Claire and Harry; do they 
agree yet like treble and bass, or does Harry now 
blow his own trumpet? Tell me about the castle, 
and how it looks and what grandmother said and did, 
and all about yourself and Francis Rashleigh. What 
kind of a wedding have you thought of? Where are 
you going after it? and what are you going to do?” 

In such conversation one hour slipped into another 
without note and without weariness. In fact, until 
the chiming of a clock in the next room alarmed them 
they forgot time; then both rose hurriedly to their feet. 

‘ ‘We have just half an hour to dress,” said Fanny, ‘ ‘and 
look well to how you dress yourself, Bernicia. A 
woman may keep her lover for a century if she has 
plenty of pretty gowns. Let me lend you a beauty, 
an apricot silk with cherry ribbons. Men love a 
woman to be in a glow of colour.” 

Lord Pomfret and Lord Rashleigh were standing 
laughing and talking on the hearthrug when the ladies 
came down together, both of them gay with the shim- 
mer of silk, and the flash of jewels, and the frou-frou 
of ribbons and lace. And if Lord Rashleigh was 
proud to the skies of his bride’s loveliness, Lord Pom- 
fret was no less proud of his charming wife. He paid 
Fanny such devoted and ardent attention that she 
vowed “he had caught the love fever from Lord 
Rashleigh, and she would be compelled to marry him 
again in order to make him sensible.” Upon which 


THE WORD LISTENED FOR. 305 

Lord Pomfret declared, “the remedy only increased 
the disease, and that he now carried as much love in 
his heart as he was able to live with.” 

Harry and Claire had promised, if possible, to join 
them in the evening; but they did not come and 
Fanny said with an air of gentle raillery “that some- 
times the impossible was bearable”; and anyone 
might see that Bernicia and Rashleigh were a 
full cup to her. Indeed, there was as joyful a com- 
pany in the Pomfret drawing-room that night as it 
had ever seen or was likely to see. They talked of 
Lord Rashleigh’s adventures abroad. They talked of 
the wedding and the wedding garments and the wed- 
ding guests. They smiled at the tribulations of past 
love, and in the light that brightened the vistas adown 
the future they looked smiling into each other’s eyes. 
And Bernicia sang again of “Bonnie Bobbie Shafto,” 
and the “Little Brown Man of Cresswell,” and all the 
other old, old songs that touched her lover’s heart at 
their first meeting. There was so much to say, so 
much to recall, so much to anticipate; and ever and 
anon as a door opened, they could hear the song and 
laughter and merrymaking in the servants’ hall, where 
also they were drinking Miss Bernicia’s health, and 
speculating on her marriage, and the pleasures and 
changes it might bring with it. 

But joy wearies as well as grief, and it were little 
wonder if Bernicia began to look pale and droop her 
white eyelids about midnight. With smiles and kisses 
she withdrew to a little sleep and forgetfulness. And 
when Lord Rashleigh had also said “good-night,” 
Lady Fanny handed her lord his pipe, and stirred the 
fire into a blaze and drew a stool to his side. Her 


3o6 


BERNICIA. 


bright face, held in her jewelled hands, was full of 
happy speculation. 

“Speak, John!” she said. “Have you nothing to 
say about this delightful event?” 

“Egad, Fanny! It is a very fortunate event for us. 
It will increase my court favour and give me political 
influence I shall be glad to have.” 

“John! I am asahmed of you! How can you talk 
of court favour and political influence in the same 
breath with Francis and Bernicia? They are a poem, 
a picture, a play all fire and tenderness. Francis 
Rashleigh is a lover beyond all lovers ; the most hand- 
some and the most irresistible. And Bernicia, who 
adores him, is the most beautiful and loving of 
women. John, they will be the happiest couple in 
the whole world!” and she looked at her husband 
with shining eyes, and. a face dimpling all over with 
smiles. 

He dropped his pipe quite recklessly and took her 
in his arms. “By my soul, sweet love!” he cried, 
“you must except John and Fanny Pomfret. I will 
stake the last penny I own on it. Bernicia and 
Francis are just beginning to be happy. We have 
twelve years the best of them, Fanny!” 

She kissed him then; she took his large brown 
hands in her own, and repeated her words with a 
charming insistence: 

“Indeed, sir, they will be the happiest couple in 
the whole world — except John and Fanny Pomfret.” 


THE END. 


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